


Love Under Will

by pornosophical



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornosophical/pseuds/pornosophical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Diggory was taller than Harry by about a head, and Harry couldn’t help noticing, nervous as he was, that Diggory was incredibly handsome.</i>
</p><p>Instead of catching the Snitch, Cedric catches Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> since this is canon divergent there'll be sections of the original text interspersed throughout the fic

Cedric was worried about Harry Potter. Not just worried that Potter would spot the Snitch before Cedric--although he was concerned about that--but also the fact that Potter looked entirely too peaky to be flying in this weather.

Against the ominous dark backdrop of the stormy sky, his face was pale, and he had an almost haunted look about him, drawn with exhaustion and cold. At this point, Cedric wanted to catch the Snitch not just so Hufflepuff would win, but also because Potter looked so wretched. Drenched by the heavy rain and blown about by fierce wind the younger boy looked downright vulnerable, like a half-drowned kitten.

Thankfully, someone on the Gryffindor team had finally decided to charm their Seeker's glasses for him at the last game break. Cedric had been more than a bit incredulous to see Potter constantly wiping his lenses off in an effort to keep them clear.

All the same, even as unsteady as he looked, Cedric had to admit that Potter was the better flyer, and so he kept one eye on Potter just in case he saw the Snitch. Cedric was under no illusions about his ability to outfly Potter, even though they had the same broom. Hufflepuff's match against Gryffindor had been canceled last year, so while Cedric had never flown against him personally, he’d seen all the other games Potter flew in.

The boy was a natural in the air.

Of course, today it felt less flying through the air and more like being underwater. Cedric was glad he’d cast a warming charm on his Quidditch Robes in addition to an Impermeable charm. Otherwise, he’d be damp and cold instead of just damp.

Something glinted off to the side, something that pulled Cedric's attention like a hound scenting a fox.

The Snitch.

Cedric leaned forward, into the wind. Eyes trained on the golden shimmer flitting through the raindrops; his world settled into a singular focus. He plunged through the rain against the harsh gusts of the storm, squinting as he tracked the Snitch's path.

Lighting crackled in the sky, followed by a roll of thunder. Suddenly Cedric felt cold, so cold that his warming charm must have gone out because it felt like the rain was now chilling him to the bone.

It didn’t matter—the only thing that mattered was catching the Snitch.

Except…

There was movement below him, just enough to tug at his peripheral vision. The cold was sharper now, and Cedric had lost all feeling of joy at flying or playing Quidditch. He existed only as pure focus, his entire world concentrated in the stretch of his arms through the storm, in reaching out for the golden gleaming Snitch—

Cedric’s eyes flickered up from his goal just in time to catch the sight of Harry Potter slumping off his broom like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Down he fell into a mass of dementors that explained Cedric’s sudden melancholy and the piercing cold.

The Snitch sped away from Cedric as time froze for a moment, and Cedric faced a choice.

Catch the Snitch, or catch Harry.

It was no choice at all to Cedric.

All thought of the Snitch vanished. Cedric aimed his Nimbus at the limp body plummeting through the air toward the upturned faces of the dementors below and urged his broom to fly faster than it ever had before.

 

* * *

 

“Lucky Diggory was so quick.”

“Yeah, falling from that height…”

“Oh, he would have been dead for sure.”

“Don’t say that!”

Harry could hear voices, but they made no sense. He didn’t know where he was, or how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten, especially his chest.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as though they’d just climbed out of a swimming pool.

“Harry!” said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. “How’re you feeling?”

It was as though Harry’s memory as on fast forward. The lightning—the Grim—the Snitch—and the dementors…

“What happened?” he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

They told him the story, how he’d fallen off his broom nearly fifty feet in the air and would have hit the ground if not for Cedric Diggory wheeling around to catch him. It might have all still ended in tears because when Cedric “caught” him it was more a mid-air collision to cushion Harry’s landing. But Dumbledore had waved his wand and slowed their descent even further, tumbling through the air until Cedric managed to land, holding Harry in his arms.

They also told him that Gryffindor lost, that although Harry had been out of it, Cedric had been able to keep playing. It didn’t matter that Cedric had tried to call for a rematch, the rules were the rules, and there were no substitutions in Quidditch. They told him it could have been worse, that they made up some points against Hufflepuff before Cedric caught the Snitch, but the crushing weight of the defeat, Harry’s first as a Seeker, weighed on his chest so heavy it hurt.

The worst of it, though, the part that hurt the most, was when they brought the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand to him. Only splinters remained.

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn’t argue or complain, but he wouldn’t let her throw out the remains of his broom. He knew he was being stupid, that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn’t help it; he felt as though he’d lost one of his best friends.

He had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sent him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with a get-well card she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time, accompanied, by Wood, who told Harry (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn’t blame him in the slightest. Ron and Hermione left Harry’s bedside only at night.

One of his visitors, though, was unexpected. When Cedric Diggory came into the hospital wing mid-Saturday afternoon, a pensive look of concern on his handsome face, Harry wasn’t the only one who was surprised.

He was probably the only one whose heart started beating double time for some reason.

“Diggory? Do you need something?” asked Pomfrey. Cedric's eyes landed almost immediately on Harry, and he seemed to sag a bit with relief, offering Harry a shy grin.

Harry's breath caught in his throat for a moment. Maybe he needed to have something to drink.

“No, Madam Pomfrey. Just wanted to visit,” said Cedric, his face slipping into a charming smile for the Matron. Harry felt oddly warm and began to fiddle with the sheet covering him. When Cedric turned his brilliant smile on Harry, it softened into something that made the warmth in Harry’s chest constrict, an ache that made no sense. “You took a nasty tumble, Potter.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, his voice croaking, so he cleared it. “I heard you caught me.”

“Well, I tried,” said Cedric, scratching the back of his head with a somewhat bashful air. “If Professor Dumbledore hadn’t slowed us down I might have still flown both of us into the ground.”

“Well, I think it was very noble of you,” said Hermione firmly. “When Harry fell…”

“It was bloody terrifying,” Ron finished. Around the corner, Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat significantly, but she didn’t take points for language.

“Anyone else would have done the same,” Cedric demurred. “I’m just glad you’re alright, Harry.”

“Me too,” said Harry and then coughed, his cheeks heating up. “I mean, thank you, Cedric.”

Cedric grinned at him, and Harry couldn’t help grinning back like an idiot. Then Harry watched Cedric’s eyes drift to the remains of his Nimbus Two Thousand.

"I’m sorry about your broom,” he said.

Harry swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “Yeah.”

Cedric hesitated, looking almost unsure for a moment before he offered another blindingly handsome smile.

“Well, as I said, I’m just glad you’re okay. You two take care of him, right?” Cedric’s smile was disarming enough, but the wink he tossed to Ron and Hermione just then made Harry’s heart beat double time.

“We try our best,” said Ron wryly enough that Harry thumped his arm. “Hey! Watch it you!”

Hermione made a noise of disgust as they scuffled, but Cedric chuckled.

“I’ll see you around, Harry,” Cedric said as he walked away.

“You too, Cedric!” Harry called and then winced. Did he sound like an idiot?

“He’s a real stand-up bloke, isn’t he?” said Ron, a bit bemused.

“Well, he _was_ sorted into Hufflepuff,” Hermione said. “Admittedly, not everyone in Hufflepuff exemplifies their House’s virtues quite so thoroughly. It was very thoughtful of him to come visit you, Harry.”

“Yeah, I reckon it was,” said Harry, his fingers fiddling with the blank over his lap. He still felt bad about losing and humiliated about falling off his broom in the middle of a game. Cedric’s visit helped, but there was only so much even a visits from Harry’s friends could do because they knew only half of what was troubling him.

He hadn’t told anyone about the Grim.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. there's still a fair bit of canon text interspersed here, also it's short

Harry’s mood improved at the promise of anti-dementor lessons from Lupin, but he couldn’t take unreserved pleasure when Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff. Even though Hufflepuff’s steep loss meant Gryffindor was still in the running for the Cup, Harry hadn’t been able to root against Cedric in good conscience. In fact, he'd cheered for him.

Of course, his cheering for Cedric had gotten him a couple of odd looks from his fellow Gryffindors, and an outright glower from Oliver Wood, but Harry didn’t think it should be so weird he’d cheer for someone who saved his life.

Regardless of whom Harry cheered for, Gryffindor was still in the running, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Luckily, Dumbledore’s anger meant Harry saw no hint of the dementors within the grounds.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies.

Students all over Hogwarts were happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts, and though Ron said it was because he couldn’t stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library, Harry wasn’t fooled. They were doing it to keep him company, and he was very grateful to have such faithful friends.

To everyone’s delight except Harry’s, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term. He’d been prepared to sit out the weekend with a copy of Which Broomstick, only to have Fred and George gift him with a most marvelous map.

The Marauder’s Map.

Now Harry found himself sneaking out from behind the counter of Honeyduke, courtesy of the secret passage the Marauder’s Map had shown.

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry. He edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread over Dudley’s piggy face if he could see where Harry was now.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were “Special Effects” sweets: Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps (“Breathe fire for your friends!”), Ice Mice (“ Hear your teeth chatter and squeak!”), peppermint creams shaped like toads (“ Hop realistically in the stomach!”), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.

Harry caught sight of Ron and Hermione standing in front of the “Special Effects” sweet. To his surprise, they were standing next to Cedric, who seemed to be asking their opinion about something.

Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and sneaked up behind them, getting as close as he could without being spotted. This would be a bit of fun.

“Do you think Harry would like Pepper Imps?” Cedric was asking, his furrowed brow casting his handsome face in a whole new light as he showed the package to Ron and Hermione. 

"What do those do?" asked Hermione. None of them had noticed Harry when he drew up behind them, they were too busy looking at candy.

“They make you breathe fire?” said Harry, poking his head into the group between Cedric and Hermione to peak at the package. “I’d say yes.”

“Harry!” squealed Hermione, almost losing her footing at Harry's sudden appearance. “What are you doing here? How—how did you--?”

“These two said you weren’t coming,” said Cedric with a grin.

“We thought he wasn’t!” Ron’s eyes were alight with excitement. “How’d you manage it?”

Harry glanced around and dropped his voice so none of the sixth years could hear him and told them about the Marauder’s Map.

“How come Fred and George never gave it to _me_!” said Ron, outraged. “I’m their brother!”

“That sounds like a dead clever bit of magic,” mused Cedric. “Can we see it?”

Harry reached into his robes and surreptitiously pulled out the map, smoothing it out in the midst of their huddle.

He said the words, and the map unfurled, ink sprawling across the parchment.

“Wow,” gasped Ron, looking very impressed.

“This is sophisticated spellwork,” said Cedric, equally impressed. He traced the map with his fingers, and Harry realized he was standing near enough to Cedric that he could smell Cedric’s cologne. The scent was musky, almost woody with an edge of spices that Harry couldn’t identify. “It tracks everyone? They must have used a Homonculus Charm.”

“I’ve read about that one,” said Hermione, temporarily distracted from the horror of Harry breaking so many rules. Harry and Ron traded looks because of course she had. “It’s dreadfully difficult, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, and you have to be extremely familiar with the area you’re attempting to map, not to mention the difficulty of combining it with the other charms on this map,” said Cedric. “Whoever made this must have known Hogwarts better than the backs of their own hands.”

“Which is why Harry is going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren’t you, Harry?” asked Hermione, expectantly.

“No I’m not!” said Harry.

“Are you mad?” said Ron, goggling at Hermione. “Hand in something that good?”

“You’re thinking about Sirius Black, aren’t you?” said Cedric, looking concernedly at Harry.

“Exactly!” Hermione hissed. “He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know! Cedric, you’re a prefect, you have to agree with me!”

“He can’t be getting in through a passage,” said Harry quickly, swiveling to Cedric. The thought that Cedric might take the map, or turn him in, hadn’t even occurred to Harry. His face was impassive, his gray eyes unreadable, and the warmth of Cedric’s concern for Harry now clashed with the fear Cedric would think he should turn in the map.

“Look.” Harry held up the map. “There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three—one of them’s caved in so that no one can get through it. One of them’s got the Whomping Willow planted over the Entrance, so you can’t get out of it. And the one I just came through—well—it’s really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there…”

“And if he does?” asked Cedric, echoing the sinking feeling in Harry’s chest. What if Black _did_ know the passage was there?

Ron cleared his throat significantly and pointed to a notice posted on the inside of the sweetshop, detailing how closely patrolled Hogsmeade was.

“I’d like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village,” said Ron in a low voice. “Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn’t they? They live over the shop!”

They were all looking imploringly at Cedric, who sighed ruefully.

“I’m not going to report you, Harry, but…” Cedric put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, broad and warm. What felt like sparks flew through Harry’s body, shooting stars fanning out from the heat of Cedric’s palm careening into his chest. “Just be careful, please? And I think you should tell a professor about the Map. At the very least, be sure to keep an eye on it, alright?”

“I will, I swear,” said Harry quickly, beaming up at him. “Thank you, Cedric.”

Hermione was muttering darkly, but Harry had eyes only for Cedric, and the affectionate look Cedric was giving him. Cedric squeezed Harry’s shoulder, and he nodded to Ron and Hermione. Then he was walking away, and Harry felt a yearning that he didn’t care to examine too closely just yet.

“I still say this is a terrible idea.” Hermione seemed to be struggling to let the matter drop.

“Are _you_ going to report me?” Harry asked her, grinning.

“Oh—of course not—but honestly, Harry—”

“Come on, Harry, you have to see the Fizzing Whizbees,” said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. Harry quickly lost himself in the marvels of magical candies, and the magic of Hogsmeade in general.

Later, the magic would be shattered when Harry learned the truth about Sirius Black from eavesdropping in the Three Broomsticks, but for now, it was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep borp things are a'changin'

Harry finally had his Firebolt back, just in time for the game. He went down to breakfast the morning of Gryffindor’s match against Ravenclaw with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved some manner of an honor guard. As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the Firebolt’s direction and the air filled with excited mutters. To Harry’s enormous satisfaction the entire Slytherin team seemed dumbstruck.

“Did you see his face?” said Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. “He can’t believe it! This is brilliant!”

Wood too was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt.

“Put it here, Harry,” said Oliver, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look.

Cedric was one of them.

“I see you found a replacement for your Nimbus,” Cedric said to Harry by way of greeting, his voice cheeky and his gray eyes dancing. “Little bit of an upgrade?”

“It’s bloody brilliant!” Harry exclaimed without reservation, and he felt like he was glowing when Cedric laughed. “Want to see?”

“Of course!” Harry was already handing him the broom, and Cedric took it eagerly.

“Blimey, this is a beautiful broom, just look at that finish,” he said, holding the Firebolt up.

Harry was busy staring at Cedric’s hands as they ran up and down the broom, the flex of his wrist and his long, broad fingers, as they stroked the polished wood, and almost missed Cedric speaking.

“You’re going to be unstoppable on this thing,” Cedric was telling him as he examined the bristles. 

“If you’d like to take it for a ride sometime, just let me know,” said Harry impulsively, and was rewarded with Cedric’s blindingly handsome grin.

“I might just take you up on that, Harry,” he said with a wink.

Harry smiled at Cedric and felt like an idiot as his mind blanked on what to say. Words lined up in his head and faltered midway through filing down to his mouth, falling away and leaving Harry stymied with feelings he didn't quite understand and no place to put them.

“Here, you should take this back before Wood thinks I’m trying to sabotage you,” said Cedric a bit conspiratorially, leaning in to press the broom back into Harry's hands. Harry glanced back down the table at Oliver, who wasn’t exactly glaring at Cedric, but clearly wasn't pleased to see Cedric handling the Firebolt. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

Harry wondered if Cedric had noticed Harry cheering for him in his last game. Part of him hoped Cedric had seen, and another part of him felt curiously embarrassed about it and hoped Cedric hadn’t. Either way, the idea of Cedric cheering for Harry warmed Harry down to his toes and also made him feel just a bit queasy. 

Probably just pre-game nerves, Harry thought and dismissed the discomfort.

Cedric was walking away, and Penelope Clearwater was asking if she could see the broom now. Harry handed it over, but his attention was still focused on Cedric as he walked back to the Hufflepuff table. A determination to impress Cedric settled over him, to really show off what the Firebolt was capable of in Harry’s hands. Harry was going to win, and he was going to win big.

 

* * *

      

After Ron’s scare with Sirius Black, there was very little sleep to be had that night. The next day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security. Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes, and security trolls had been installed to guard the reinstated Fat Lady.

Harry couldn’t help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred and George had been right in thinking that they were the only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.

Of course, the twins weren’t the only ones who knew about the passages. Harry knew, Ron knew, and Hermione knew—and so did Cedric.

So when Harry caught sight of Cedric bearing down on him with a determined expression, his stomach sank. Cedric was going to force him to turn over the map.

“Harry, I didn’t see you at breakfast,” said Cedric. “Ron, are you doing alright?”

Ron, who had been enjoying his celebrity status, was happy to regale Cedric with the tale.

“I’m still not sure why he ran,” said Ron at the end of it.

“That is odd,” agreed Cedric, but he was visibly distracted with his focus resting squarely on Harry. “Harry, can I talk to you?”

Ron gave Harry a look that said he was thinking the same thing Harry was, that Cedric was going to make Harry turn the Map over.

“I’ll see you in class, Ron,” said Harry. Ron looked at Harry incredulously, widening his eyes meaningfully, but Harry just shook his head. After a tense moment, Ron left with a sour look on his face.

Once they were alone, Cedric led Harry over to an alcove where they were out of the way enough for a private conversation. Cedric turned to face Harry and for a moment they just looked at each other and breathed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” asked Harry.

“You know exactly what I want to talk to you about,” said Cedric with a wry amusement that made Harry’s cheeks hot, like he was a child and Cedric was talking down to him. Anger curdled in Harry’s chest, broiling and sour with indignation. “You need to turn the map in.”

“Why?” demanded Harry. “It’s not as though Black can use any of the secret tunnels, and the only reason he made it into the tower is that Neville wrote all the passwords down!”

“But he _is_ breaking into the castle,” said Cedric insistently. “And the map could help track him in the event he comes back.”

Harry exhaled in a frustrated huff. He’d been fighting the impulse to turn the map in, but Ron had eased his worries by pointing out how unlikely it was Black could be using the passages. Except Cedric wasn’t so easily put off as Ron, and he was more convincing too.

“Harry, please, this is more important than Hogsmeade weekends,” said Cedric, which Harry thought was very easy to say when you already had permission to visit Hogsmeade. “This is about your safety—and your housemates’ safety too.”

Harry’s chest constricted. He’d wondered why Black hadn’t bothered to silence Ron, and if he were to come back… Black had no problem killing innocents; he’d murdered over a dozen people when he killed Peter Pettigrew, what was one third year student to Black—or even a room full of them? What was to stop an increasingly desperate Black from murdering the rest of his dormmates when he broke in again? The only reason he hadn’t killed Ron was that the alarm would have been raised, and he probably couldn't have made it out of the castle without getting caught.

What if the next time Black was so desperate, he didn’t care if he got caught?

An image flashed in Harry’s mind of a wild-eyed, dark haired man stabbing each of his friends in their sleep, working his way down to Harry. They would die quietly, choking on their own blood, waking up only long enough to realize they were dying. The thought of Black coming after him was frightening, but the idea of Black coming after his housemates was terrifying.

Harry felt like he would throw up.

“How about this,” said Cedric, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder to draw Harry’s focus back to him. “If you turn the map into a professor, I promise to keep you company on Hogsmeade weekends until the end of the year.”

“You’d do that?” Harry blurted out before he could help himself.

“If it helps keep you safe? In a heartbeat,” said Cedric. “Besides, it’s not fair you don’t get to enjoy Hogsmeade with everyone else, and I don't see why you should have to bear that all on your own.”

The indignation Harry had felt earlier at Cedric faded to dying embers in the face of his concern. He didn’t want to give up the map, not just because of Hogsmeade weekends but also because it was so brilliant! And if not for how Cedric’s words had struck at him, Harry would have kept it. Harry might be a bit cavalier with his own safety, but the thought of endangering his friends made him feel ill.

Also, Harry couldn’t deny that the idea of spending weekends with Cedric had a certain appeal. It wasn’t the same as going to Hogsmeade, but it was something.

“But won’t you miss going to Hogsmeade?” Harry asked despite himself.

Cedric shrugged. “I’ve been before, and I’m sure I’ll go again. Black can’t avoid getting caught forever.”

“You reckon so?”

“I do. And on top of that, maybe you could show me how to cast a Patronus,” said Cedric, his smile made Harry feel like he had bubbles in his stomach. “That was dead impressive you know, the other day. Not just catching the Snitch, but knocking Flint and Malfoy arse over kettle.”

“You want to learn the Patronus charm?” asked Harry, somewhat boggled by Cedric’s request but mostly flustered by Cedric’s praise.

“Well, the dementors affect you so strongly, and if something happens again, I’d like to be able to help you more than just ramming a broom into you.”

Cedric looked almost tentative now like he wanted to ask Harry why he was so affected by the dementors, but also didn’t want to push him. Curiously, Harry wanted to tell him, wanted Cedric to know he wasn’t just a weak little boy who fainted off his broom.

“When the dementors come near me, I hear Voldemort murdering my mum,” Harry said listlessly. He missed how wide Cedric’s eyes went, and the alarm that quickly covered his face. 

“Merlin, Harry,” Cedric breathed, his hand rising to grip Harry’s shoulder with a strength that assured Harry that Cedric was genuinely worried for him. “That’s awful. No wonder they affect you so much.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged and then regretted it when Cedric’s hand dropped from his shoulder. “So that’s why Professor Lupin is teaching me the Patronus charm. I can show you, but there’s no way I’d be as good a teacher as him.”

“I think you’re selling yourself a bit short,” said Cedric. “I caught a glimpse of that Patronus you cast at Flint and Malfoy. It was very near corporeal.”

Harry was certain his face was on fire with how hot his cheeks felt.

“Okay,” he said quickly.

“Okay?” said Cedric.

“I’ll give the map to a professor,” Harry explained. “If you’re sure you don’t mind spending weekends with me?”

Cedric grinned at him, his shoulders dropping in relief. Harry realized that Cedric must have been genuinely worried about him, and it warmed his heart.

“Not at all. I could use a bit more revision time for my OWLs, so I probably shouldn’t be going to Hogsmeade anyway.”

“You want us to do homework together?” Harry asked, torn between horror and disgust.

Cedric laughed. “Well, I was mostly talking about myself, but if you want help with any of your assignments I’d be happy to help you.”

Normally, studying would be about the last thing he’d choose to spend time doing. But with Hermione avoiding Harry and Ron over the entire Crookshanks-Scabbers debacle, Harry didn’t have anyone helping him with his assignments anymore.

“I might just take you up on that,” said Harry.

“Good,” said Cedric. “I’m glad."

 

* * *

  

Harry dithered over giving up the map for a couple of days, telling himself it was because he needed to decide which professor he was going to give the map to. If he gave it to Professor McGonagall, she wouldn’t be happy it had taken him so long, and he would likely never see the map again. He might as well hand it back to Filch--or even worse, give it to Snape. The obvious solution was to give it to Professor Lupin during one of their Patronus practice sessions, which also allowed Harry to hold onto the map for a couple more days.

Ron was decidedly unhappy with Harry’s decision, but when Harry had said it was because he was worried about Ron--especially after what happened--that seemed to mollify him. It wasn't like Harry wanted to give the map up, although Ron was certainly acting like he did, but Harry couldn't deny Cedric's reasoning.

“All the same, Diggory’s acting no better than Hermione,” Ron complained to him. “Don’t know why he’s so interested in you anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded.

“Well, he’s a fifth year, and he's in Hufflepuff,” said Ron looking uncomfortable. “And now he’s volunteering to give up his Hogsmeade weekends? Why's he being so chummy with you? It's not like you're friends."

“Why shouldn’t we be friends? He saved my life,” Harry pointed out. He also wanted to point out that Ron hadn’t volunteered to stay behind with him, but since Ron and Hermione had both stayed over Christmas he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He was sorely tempted, though since Ron was being a bit of a prat.

“Dumbledore would have saved you,” Ron grumbled. “Diggory didn’t need to catch you.”

“Well, Cedric didn’t know that.” Harry was looking at Ron, but Ron wouldn’t meet his eyes. “And I don’t like handing in the map either, but… I think Cedric’s right.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” said Ron, stabbing his sausage rather vindictively.

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Harry demanded again.

“Nothing,” said Ron, and Harry let it drop. He was already fighting with Hermione. He didn’t want to fight with Ron too.

 

* * *

 

Harry rationalized waiting to turn the map into Lupin at one of their sessions together. Even so, when the moment came, he still hesitated until near the end of their time together.

Harry fiddled with his wand for a moment as he stood in front of Lupin’s desk. Lupin had already taken out some essays to grade and was dipping his quill in ink. Harry stopped fidgeting with his wand and took a fortifying breath.

“Um, Professor Lupin?” Lupin looked up, a bit surprised to see Harry still there.

“Yes, Harry?” Lupin was looking at Harry expectantly.

“I have… something. I should give to you?” Harry hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like a question, but he was still reluctant to hand the map over.

Lupin looked pleasantly bemused as Harry pulled out the map.

“A spare bit of parchment?”

“No, it’s… it’s a map,” said Harry, looking up at Lupin, who was suddenly wearing a very odd expression. “Professor?”

“Where did you come by this?” Lupin asked quietly and then held up his hand before Harry could ask whether he recognized the map. “No, never mind, I don’t need to know. I don’t know how long you’ve had this map, Harry, but I’m very proud you’ve decided to turn it in.”

He took the map from Harry, who watched it transfer to Lupin's hands with no small amount of regret.

“Yeah, well, I just… do you suppose I could have it back, afterward?” Harry asked. 

“I daresay that once Black is caught, there would be no reason not to return the map to you,” said Lupin slowly, and Harry’s heart rose with each word. “Except for the fact that I know this to be an item Filch confiscated years ago.”

Harry's heart sank, crashing and burning like a plane taking a nosedive into his belly.

“How do you know that?” asked Harry.

“I… knew the makers of the map,” said Lupin, his eyes looking somewhere far away. “They were notorious troublemakers, far more concerned with their own amusements than the wellbeing of those around them.”

“They sound a bit like the Weasely twins,” muttered Harry. Fred and George wouldn't be happy if they found out Harry had turned the map in, even if Harry had partially done it to keep Ron safe.

“As a professor, I, of course, cannot comment on the conduct of students to other students,” said Lupin with a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "But Fred and George have more sense--even if only a sliver--than the Marauders, I know for a fact."

Harry declined to mention that it was the Weasely twins who had given him the map. 

“Do you think you can use it to find Black?” Harry asked instead, half-hoping that Lupin would admit that he couldn't and that Harry could talk him into giving the map back.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” said Lupin instead of answering him, which proved Lupin wasn't lying about knowing the Marauders. Hogwarts unfurled in ink on the parchment, and Harry worried that Lupin might cry for a moment before his face smoothed out. “I don’t know about finding Black, but with regards to tracking him in response to an attack it could prove invaluable. And we could always get lucky, I suppose.”

“I reckon Cedric was right then,” Harry sighed ruefully.

"Cedric? Cedric Diggory?” Lupin looked mildly intrigued.

“Yeah, he told me to turn the map in. Ron—Ron and I reckoned that since most of the passages were blocked or already watched that it didn’t matter if I didn’t hand it in, but Cedric convinced me I should.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends,” said Lupin.

“Well, we weren’t really, only then he went and _saved my life_ and all,” said Harry a good deal more defensively than was probably warranted. He didn’t like that first Ron had questioned his relationship with Cedric, and now Lupin seemed to be as well.

“An excellent foundation for a friendship,” said Lupin, which left Harry feeling a bit foolish. “I’ll be sure to put the map to good use, and if all goes well, I’ll see about getting it back to you.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Harry. He watched forlornly as Lupin put the map in a desk drawer, and then sighed. Time to go back to the tower. Hopefully, Ron would be done being shirty with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Finally Hogsmeade weekend had arrived. Harry watched everyone prepare to go with more than a hint of regret. That could have been him, bantering with Ron, Dean, and Seamus on their way down to the common room to meet up with everyone going to Hogsmeade, but he’d given the map up.

Given it up for Cedric, who he was supposed to meet at the base of Gryffindor tower in—right about now.

Harry grabbed his broom just in case they decided to go flying. He’d promised Cedric a chance to ride his broom, so…

Pinpricks of heat bloomed on Harry’s cheeks, and he smoothed his suddenly sweaty hands down the front of his robes. For some reason, he felt like trying to brush his hair, but he knew better than to think it would do anything good. He was already wearing his school clothes instead of Dudley’s hand-me-downs, anything more and it’d be like Harry was getting ready for a date or something equally ridiculous.

As if someone as popular as Cedric would be queer. Harry didn’t know much about gay people, but he knew the Dursleys didn’t like them, and Dudley made fun of Harry by calling him a poofter and such, so he figured gay people couldn’t be that bad. Most people hated them, though, so Harry knew better than to draw that sort of attention.

Besides, Cedric was just so… normal. He didn’t prance about and lisp or wear—well, actually robes were strange and flamboyant by Muggle standsards—but he played Quidditch, and he was popular, and there was just no way someone like Cedric could be like _that_. Besides, why did it matter? Harry wasn’t queer either, and this wasn’t a date, he just wanted to impress Cedric, which was understandable. Cedric had saved his life, and he was nice and cool and older, and Harry just had to work a little harder to impress Cedric than he did, say Ron.

Thinking of whom, he had just re-appeared in front of Harry. Ron was still dressed for the walk to Hogsmeade, but Harry noticed the pang of regret at not going had faded somewhat. He supposed he’d just gotten used to the idea of spending time with Cedric instead.

“Going to meet Diggory?” asked Ron, and something in his tone made Harry look at him warily.

“Yeah, I am.” Harry wasn’t sure what Ron’s problem was, it wasn’t like Ron had volunteered to stay behind and keep Harry company.

Of course, Ron had wanted Harry to keep the map, but this seemed about more than that. Maybe Ron was just upset that Harry listened to Cedric instead of him, but after Lupin’s reaction Harry felt assured he’d done the right thing.

And he’d thought Ron was all right with it. Apparently, he was wrong.

“Well, have fun then,” said Ron in a snide tone that raised Harry’s hackles. Dean and Seamus were waiting down in the common room, but Neville was still ambling around their dorm in his pajamas since he’d lost Hogsmeade privileges after the whole password debacle. Or rather, Neville had been ambling around. Now he was staring at Harry and Ron.

“Well, I will!” said Harry hotly and proceeded to storm out of Gryffindor tower. He mostly ignored the few calls and greetings directed his way, waving vaguely as he stalked out of the Fat Lady's portrait.

Great. Now he was fighting with Hermione _and_ Ron. What was Ron’s problem with Cedric anyway? He’d like Cedric well enough after he’d saved Harry’s life, Harry fumed as he trotted down the stairs.

Cedric was waiting for him at the bottom of the tower, leaning against the wall with his broom, reading a book. At the noise of Harry’s trotting down the stairs, he looked up and grinned.

Harry brightened as he closed in on Cedric, who slid his book into the bag he’d slung over his shoulder. Spending time with Cedric would be a nice break from the dramatics of his erstwhile best friends.

“Hullo, Harry.” Cedric’s smile was so bright, and he was so handsome Harry forgot all about fighting with Ron.

“Hi,” said Harry, trying to play it cool and not to let on how excited he was. “Sorry, have you been waiting long?”

“Not at all,” said Cedric. His eyes were flicking back and forth from Harry to his Firebolt. “You up for a bit of flying?”

“Reckon you can handle my broom?” asked Harry, not sure what possessed him to be so saucy with Cedric. The moment the words finished escaping his mouth Harry wished he could swallow them back up.

“I can handle anything you got, Potter,” said Cedric, and then turned a bit pink and pulled back, coughing into his hand. “Er—let’s go.”

Harry wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened, but the air felt electric between him and Cedric as they walked out to the Quidditch pitch. Charms kept the field clear of snow, but with everyone in Hogsmeade the snow around the field was pristine. A group of first years were having a snowball scrimmage down by the lake, most of them having more success with throwing snowballs by hand than using magic. The sky was clear and the sun was shining, so bright it cast Cedric in stark relief and Harry had to squint when he looked at him.

They were halfway to the pitch when Harry bothered to look at Cedric’s broom instead of Cedric.

"You have a Nimbus 2000!” Harry hadn’t realized when he’d been flying against Cedric. Of course what with the weather and the dementors he shouldn’t be surprised he hadn’t noticed at the time.

“My parents sprung for one when I made captain,” said Cedric proudly. “I still can’t believe Malfoy’s father bought the whole Slytherin team 2001s.”

“He had to get his son on the team somehow,” said Harry. “And I reckon he knew talent wasn’t gonna do it.”

Cedric laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pleasure at being the cause.

“Very true, but it has given them an edge over the Comets and Cleansweeps,” said Cedric. Harry had to admit the truth in that, the Comet was the most common broom at Hogwarts, with the Cleansweep just behind. The Cleansweep was a better broom, so most of the school’s Quidditch players had one, but it was also more expensive. A Nimbus 2000 would be a bargain these days, Harry reflected. Still expensive, but with the Nimbus 2001 out the price would be cut by a significant margin.

And the Nimbus 2000 was still a very good broom. Harry had loved his, enough that now, what with his Firebolt, he felt a bit embarrassed over how attached he’d been.

“Alright,” said Cedric, surveying the pitch in a way that reminded Harry that Cedric was Hufflepuff’s captain. “You want to warm up, or switch now?”

“Let’s do it now,” said Harry, handing his broom over to Cedric. The look of glee on his handsome face rewarded Harry with a warmth in his chest that made the February chill evaporate faster than the morning’s mist.

Cedric set off on the Firebolt with a whoop, rocketing into the air at speed right from the start. Harry grinned and then mounted Cedric’s Nimbus. He loved his Firebolt dearly, but he’d been fond of his Nimbus. Riding Cedric’s broom was a bit like coming home.

Harry flushed, tried not to think of Cedric’s broom as Cedric’s _broom_ , and took off after him.

The air was so brisk it almost burned, and the sun was high in the sky and so brilliant that the pristine snow sparkled like diamond dust. Sailing through the air on a broom Harry could ignore everything else—all his troubles evaporated into the wind. 

Flying a Nimbus after using his Firebolt didn’t exactly feel sluggish, the Nimbus was too good a broom for that, but Harry knew he was flying on a slower broom. Not that much slower than his Firebolt, though, he reminded himself as he pushed the Nimbus up to full speed. He’d lost Cedric in the euphoria of flying and the comfort of being on a Nimbus again. Luckily, Cedric was a great deal easier to spot than a Snitch.

Cedric was circling the pitch, building up speed and then pulling off into wide loops and spirals. Harry trailed along after him, coasting in Cedric’s wake until Cedric slowed and they were flying apace.

“How d’you like it?” Harry shouted. Cedric pulled up alongside him until they were flying nearly shoulder to shoulder. Unlike a Quidditch game they weren’t competing, and flying this way was peaceful, just drifting at speed with another Seeker for the fun of it.

“How do you fly that fast for a whole game?” Cedric answered him with a laugh. “I’m very nearly dizzy.”

Harry shrugged. Sure it was fast, but it was just flying, and flying felt like the easiest thing in the world to Harry. Especially on a day like this, with Hogwarts resplendent in the newly fallen snow, all-aglitter under the sun.

“You’re a natural talent, aren’t you?” Cedric echoed Harry’s thoughts, although Harry wouldn’t feel comfortable saying such a thing himself. “Had you really never been on a broom before Hogwarts?”

“I live with my Muggle relatives,” Harry offered as an explanation. He didn’t feel like mentioning how awful the Dursleys were.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you get scouted eventually,” said Cedric matter-of-factly.

“You think so?” Harry wasn’t sure at this point if Cedric was buttering him up or making fun of him. Both seemed out of character for Cedric though, which could only mean he was sincere.

And if Cedric was sincere, then maybe he was right too. Harry hadn’t actually considered life after Hogwarts, he’d never thought to look so far ahead. The gold in his parent’s vault wouldn’t last forever, and it would run out quickly if he didn’t do anything to replenish it once he got out of school

Being a professional Quidditch player sounded attractive for a whole slew of reasons, not the least of which was how much Harry loved Quidditch. Harry’s head swelled with images of him flying over a great roaring crowd that looked less like the Hogwarts’s Quidditch pitch and more like Wembley Stadium.

Harry could live with that, he decided.

“You’re a good enough flyer I think it’s something you should keep in mind.” Cedric knocked Harry out of his fantasy and back to the present. They circled each other as they flew, at one point even upside down, laughing at each other and pulling stupid faces.

They drifted aimlessly around the pitch, Cedric doing long loops and picking up speed on the Firebolt, leading Harry around the pitch. It wasn’t that the Nimbus was that much slower, but it was less responsive on the sharp turns. Although it looked like it was a little too responsive for Cedric, he kept overcompensating on his banks until he finally got the move right. Harry cheered when he did, and Cedric blew a raspberry at him.

“That was brilliant,” Cedric told him when they were finished flying and heading back to earth. “It’s really a magnificent broom, but you I think you need to be a better flyer than me for it.”

“You’re a plenty good flyer,” Harry protested, feeling awkward at all the praise Cedric had been heaping on him.

“Plenty good isn’t the same as gifted the way you are,” said Cedric easily. “I’m good enough for school, and the intramural Ministry league, but not professional. Are you hungry?”

Harry realized with a sort of detached surprise at the sudden conversation switch that he was starving. He said as much to Cedric, and they agreed to go in for lunch.

About halfway through the trek back to the castle Harry’s face started to burn. He touched his cheeks gingerly, slowing slightly out of step with Cedric. His lips were chapped, but it looked like his face was too, judging by how hot and tender his skin felt. Harry had worked up a light sweat flying that had chilled rapidly in the winter air, but his face felt like it was on fire.

Harry bent down and grabbed a bit of snow to pat on his cheeks just before they got back to the castle. He’d fallen far enough behind that Cedric had noticed Harry was no longer with him and stopped.

“You too warm?” asked Cedric, who was standing inside the stone archway.

“No, my face is just hot,” said Harry as he joined Cedric. His chapped cheeks were going to demand attention later, but for now, Harry could tolerate the heat. He would have kept walking, but Cedric stopped him and tilted his face up to examine it. Harry could see the patterns of color in Cedric’s gray irises, highlights of silver over valleys of slate that gleamed in the midday light, and Harry was thankful his cheeks were already flushed.

“Looks like a bit of wind burn,” said Cedric, his brow furrowed. He raised his wand. “Do you mind?”

Harry shook his head, not trusting his voice with Cedric so close to him. Cedric put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and then waved his wand gently over Harry’s face.

“ _Coriarum_ _Solarenti_.” The words were almost melodious as Cedric incanted them, and Harry felt the burning on his cheeks fade as a tingling coolness swept over them. Cedric’s magic was the gentlest healing spell Harry had ever felt, although compared to his experiences with Skele-grow last year pretty much anything would feel gentle.

“There we are,” said Cedric. Harry didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must have because he opened them to Cedric smiling down at him fondly. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Harry felt like he could barely breathe. Cedric looked back at him and for a moment Harry wondered if something was going to happen—he didn’t know what—when Cedric reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Excellent. Meet you in the Great Hall?” Cedric asked, and Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Cedric had just _ruffled his hair_. Like he was a little kid or something! Harry touched his head, still feeling the heat of Cedric’s palm on his scalp. On the one hand, any time Cedric touched him Harry felt warm and happy, on the other hand…

Harry scowled and stomped off toward Gryffindor tower.

 

* * *

 

The Great Hall was sparsely populated when Harry walked down to meet Cedric for lunch. It seemed as though every student who could go to Hogsmeade had gone, only first years and second years sat at the tables and a handful of professors at the head table.

“Blimey, it looks empty in here,” said Neville, who had attached himself to Harry when he returned to Gryffindor tower. Harry didn’t have the heart to push him away, Neville was obviously lonely, and felt awful about leaving the passwords out.

Didn’t mean Harry wasn’t a little put out he wouldn’t be eating lunch just him and Cedric. Speaking of…

“Well, it’s the Valentine’s Hogsmeade visit, so most everyone is gone,” said Cedric, who had spied them before Harry could spot him. “I expect Madam Puddifoot’s is full to the bursting today.”

Harry didn’t know what Madam Puddifoot’s was, and decided to refocus the conversation on something more important: food.

“Do you mind if we eat at our table?” Harry asked Cedric in a way that he hoped communicated he couldn’t just abandon Neville to eat by himself with the first and second years.

“As long as no one tells the Weasely twins I was over here,” said Cedric with a wink at Harry. Then he switched focus to Neville, holding out his hand. “Longbottom, right?”

“Just Neville’s fine!” Neville chirped, and went to shake Cedric’s hand but accidentally grabbed more of Cedric’s fingers than his palm. Neville tried to fumble his way through the handshake while adjusting his grip and wound up making a mangled, limp gesture. His round face went pink, and he shrank in on himself a bit, shoulders hunching up so that he reminded Harry of a turtle.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Neville,” said Cedric gamely, clapping Neville on the shoulder. His easy manner made Neville relax, his shoulders dropping. Irritation flared in Harry’s chest as Neville grinned back at Cedric like a—like a—like a stupid idiot.

Harry didn’t stop to examine the sudden burst of ill-will or where it came from. He did however practically pull Cedric down to sit next to him, so Neville was forced to walk around the table and sit across from them.

Lunch consisted of sandwich platters and various sides. Harry’s stomach had wrapped itself in knots with bitter gurgling complaints, and he grabbed a turkey sandwich and started eating with one hand, not even bothering to put the sandwich down as he scooped chips and a cold pasta salad onto his plate.

Eating saved Harry the trouble of making conversation. Unfortunately, that left the air clear for Neville to fill, and Cedric was too polite not to respond with genuine interest.

“So—er, you two had a good time flying?” asked Neville.

“I reckon we did,” said Cedric easily with a grin at Harry, who flashed one back. “Not too often you get a chance to ride a Firebolt.”

“All you have to do is ask,” Harry told him. Cedric looked pleased, before turning his attention back across the table.

“Have you given it a try, Neville?” Cedric asked politely, and Neville flushed.

“No, I’d probably just crash it,” he mumbled, and Harry felt a bit guilty for resenting Neville’s presence at lunch. He must have been lonely this morning while Harry was out flying with Cedric. Only first and second years (and a few panicking seventh years) had stuck around the castle.

“Don’t feel bad about that! I was just telling Harry that it was a bit much power even for me,” said Cedric easily enough that Neville offered him a sheepish grin. “Not everyone’s as talented as this one.”

Cedric reached out to ruffle Harry’s hair again, but Harry batted his hand away.

“Come off it, Cedric, you’re every bit as good a flyer as I am.”

“Okay, now _you_ come off it,” argued Cedric good-naturedly, and then directed his attention back toward Neville. “Is he always this incapable of taking a compliment?”

Neville was grinning as Harry sputtered.

“No, that’s—I’m not—it’s just that you make it sound like I’m so amazing,” said Harry gesturing vaguely with the last half of his sandwich. “Saying I’ll be scouted and all that, and then like you’re so much worse.”

“Well, Harry, you’ve never really lost a game,” Neville offered. Harry looked at Neville disbelievingly and then pointed dramatically at a bemused Cedric. “I mean, you know, on account of the game.”

“Neville’s right,” said Cedric, and laughed as Harry glowered at him. “You can’t really count a loss when it’s only on account of something like dementors. I wish Wood had been willing to call it off—“

“No, the rules are the rules,” said Harry firmly. “You won fair and square. It’s not your fault I fell off my broom.”

“You didn’t just fall off your broom, Harry,” Cedric said gently. He’d shifted closer to Harry, leaning in until the space between them shrank enough to feel intimate despite being in the Great Hall and Neville across the table watching them. “No one should have to deal with what you hear when they’re around.”

Cedric’s gray irises had hints of blue buried them Harry couldn’t help but notice, little rivers that ran deep enough for Harry to drown in. Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I hate them, too,” said Neville suddenly, with more force than Harry expected from him. “Awful things.”

“Well, with any luck they won’t be around much longer,” said Cedric, and then in an effort to salvage the mood brought them back on topic. “The point is it’s not the sort of thing that’s supposed to crop up during a Quidditch match.”

“Fine, fine,” Harry grumbled and took a bite out of a fresh sandwich.

After that, the conversation veered away from sensitive territory to milder subjects. Cedric was polite and included Neville far more than Harry would like although he did his utmost not to let that on. Eventually, they finished and somehow Cedric managed to separate them from Neville gracefully enough Neville left still smiling, claiming he needed to find where Trevor had hidden away in their dorm anyway.

“I take it you and Neville don’t normally spend a lot of time together?” Cedric asked a bit teasingly as they made their way out of the Great Hall. Harry grumbled and knocked his shoulder against Cedric’s arm, smiling so wide his face hurt when Cedric laughed and bumped him back.

“Neville’s alright; he’s just a bit…”

“The kind of person who writes down a list of passwords and leaves them out to be stolen by an infamous felon?” asked Cedric.

“Well, yes!” Harry laughed, still warm from where his shoulder had touched Cedric. “But he’s a lot braver than he looks. He’s just… Neville.”

“Wasn’t he the one who won Gryffindor the House Cup two years ago?” Cedric gave him a prompting expression. “After you, Ron, and Hermione all managed to dredge up well over a hundred points in one night, as I recall.”

“Yeah, Neville wasn’t going to let me, Ron, and Hermione out of the common room to stop Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, on account of how we’d already lost so many points.”

“Wait—what?” Cedric was staring at Harry like he’d lost the plot. “The what? _You Know Who?_ ”

Harry bit back a sigh. He hadn’t thought to find out what exactly the rumors had been about the whole ordeal his first year. There had been so many, and they’d been wild and inventive and still none of them had measured up to the truth. The only problem was he didn’t know what Cedric had heard.

So he told Cedric the story, about the obstacles the teachers had put in place, that Ron really had defeated a giant chess set animated by Professor McGonagall, and Hermione actually had puzzled her way through Snape’s potion-riddle, and that at the end Harry had faced the Mirror of Erised and discovered that Lord Voldemort was on the back of Professor Quirrell's head.

By the time he finished Cedric had gone from incredulous, to horrified, and finally to so stunned it bordered on disbelief. If it weren't for the serious subject matter, Harry might have had a good laugh at the expressions cascading over Cedric's face. As it was, Harry didn't much appreciate the way Cedric clearly didn't believe him.

“I’m not lying,” said Harry defiantly.

“I didn’t say you were,” Cedric said, clearly attempting to placate Harry like he was some hysterical kid making up fantastical stories for the glory and fame.

“Yeah, but you looked like it,” said Harry, indignation crackling through his veins. “And I killed a basilisk last year, too!”

“You did _what_?” Cedric looked almost aghast by this point. But unlike the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry had proof for this one.

“Yeah, and I can show you the basilisk!” Harry grinned at him. “Come on!”

He grabbed Cedric’s sleeve and pulled him down the hallway. Cedric let out a yelp of surprise but went along willingly. This would show Cedric he wasn’t some stupid little kid who made up stories for glory. Once he saw the basilisk he'd have to believe.

Harry just hoped Myrtle wasn't haunting her toilet at the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much pipe to lay... so many puns to make.... so much innuendo to avoid...

Luckily for Harry and Cedric, Myrtle didn’t appear to be haunting her toilet when they crept in. The bathroom was just as gloomy and depressing as Harry remembered, from the cracked mirrors to the chipped sinks and the broken door, all of it illuminated by the dull flickering of a few enchanted candle stubs and ripe with the smell of mildew.

Cedric had given Harry a curious look when Harry dragged him into a girl’s bathroom, and he only looked more befuddled when Harry walked over to the tap with the tiny snake engraved on it. Harry turned back to offer Cedric a playful grin.

“There’s a secret passage under the sink,” Harry told him.

“The secret passage to the Chamber of Secrets is in a girl’s bathroom?” asked Cedric, and his skepticism made Harry fume with satisfaction. The proof was only a moment away, and Harry was going to savor this. He bent over to stare at the tiny snake on the tap.

“ _Open up_ ,” Harry hissed.

Cedric jumped when the sink slid into the floor, revealing the pipe just large enough for a man to slide down.

“Bloody hell!” Cedric gaped without reservation at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Told you,” said Harry not a little smugly.

“And that was… that was Parseltongue, wasn’t it?”

“Err—yes,” said Harry. He felt unsure now, and Cedric didn’t look impressed, he looked unsettled.

“But if the basilisk was real,” said Cedric slowly. “Then it really was the Heir of Slytherin, who opened the Chamber, wasn’t it?”

Harry bit his lip. It was possible he hadn’t thought this through.

“It wasn’t me!” Harry bit out before he could help himself.

To his surprise, Cedric actually chuckled at that, although he didn’t sound like he thought anything was funny. “Yeah, I figured that. People honestly did believe that you were the Heir, though, didn’t they? Because you’re a Parselmouth.”

Cedric wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Yeah.” Harry wasn’t either.

“But you didn’t—you wouldn’t, so that means…” Cedric’s voice fell into the quiet with a stark, almost distant terror. “That means You Know Who isn’t dead.”

Harry swallowed through his dry throat, desperate for something to ease the slightly panicked look in Cedric’s eyes. He never got a chance, because just then an unwanted girlish voice interrupted them.

“Hello? Is someone in my toilet?”

Harry cursed under his breath, but Cedric was the one who looked like someone had walked over his grave--and he aimed to fight them for it. Before Harry could find out why Cedric reacted so dramatically to Myrtle’s voice, she appeared through the far wall.

Before Harry could find out why Cedric reacted so dramatically to Myrtle’s voice, she appeared through the far wall.

“Hey, Myrtle,” said Harry, trying to mask his reluctance.

“Harry!” Myrtle came floating through the stalls. “You came to visit—oh! Cedric.”

Myrtle pulled up short in mid-air, suddenly concerned with tidying up her ghostly hair and smoothing her robes. Her primping didn't impress Cedric, who if anything looked angry.

“Hullo, Myrtle,” said Cedric, his back straight and his tone cooler than Harry had ever heard from him. Harry tried not to let his curiosity show until he noticed that Myrtle was blushing and refused to look directly at Cedric.

“Why—whatever are you doing here?” Myrtle asked, trying to twirl her hair coquettishly. “Have you... come to visit me?”

“No.” The word was clipped, harsh, and final. Cedric's gray eyes were hard and cold as stone, and his handsome face was impassive.

Myrtle’s eyes wobbled and with a wail, she vanished into a toilet.

Harry tried to school his features into something more neutral than shock, but he was surprised by this side of Cedric. It wasn't as though Harry was a great fan of Myrtle's or anything, but Cedric had just been very harsh with her, at least for Cedric.“You know Myrtle?”

“You know Myrtle?” asked Harry tentatively.

“Myrtle’s been known to haunt the prefect’s bath,” said Cedric with a dark look at the toilet, as though Myrtle might come back up at any moment.

“Must be fun,” said Harry. Cedric snorted, about as happy as Dudley when he was dieting.

“Oh, it is because, apparently, I’m one of her favorites, what with how she sneaks in to peep on me in the bath pretty much every time I've gone in there.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Harry said and then tried to cover his comment with a cough. He _definitely_ had not meant for that to slip out. “So! The Chamber’s down here…”

Cedric didn’t seem to have noticed Harry’s slip. Instead, he was examining the entrance. Harry tried not to sigh in relief.

Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t regretting his decision to come here now. Between using Parseltongue, Myrtle’s sudden arrival, and now the filthy pipes they were about to muck around in, it was all hardly… well, it wasn’t the nicest time to show Cedric. Not a good way to repay him for the favor he’d done.

Cedric was staring hard at the entrance, his brow furrowed.

“Err—it’s a bit slimy,” Harry trailed off. “If you’d rather not it’s fine.” He’d already shown the proof of the Chamber to Cedric, which was enough for Cedric to know Harry wasn’t just telling tall tales.

“What—and pass up a chance to see the Chamber of Secrets?” Cedric said lightly and met Harry’s tentative grin with a confident smile almost bordering on a smirk—except Harry couldn’t imagine Cedric smirking. “And as for the slime, just hold still.”

Cedric drew his wand in one smooth motion and pointed it at Harry.

“ _Impervius_.” Cedric’s charm settled onto Harry’s robes without a sight or sound, the same as when Hermione had charmed Harry’s glasses. Thinking about that night and how it led to this… well, Harry already had mixed feelings about the dementors—and how they let him hear his parents’ voices. If not for the dementors and falling off his broom he probably would never have made friends with Cedric either.

“Ready?” Cedric asked after he’d cast the same spell on himself.

“Yeah. It’s a long way down, though, so—Cedric!” Harry’s voice broke on his shout as Cedric swung himself into the pipe feet first with an enthusiastic whoop.

Harry gaped at the pipe, then grinned and followed suit.

Riding the rushing endless slimy, dark slide as it whipped them through the bowels of Hogwarts and then deeper still was a great deal more enjoyable when it wasn’t a matter of life and death. In fact, it resembled nothing so much as a water slide—albeit a dank and dirty one.

Harry very nearly caught up to Cedric, who laughed when he noticed Harry had gained ground behind him. The sound of their cries echoed behind them so that Harry seemed to careen through the pipe coasting on Cedric’s laughter.

Finally, the pipe leveled and they both tumbled out of it one after another, laughing breathlessly. Harry shot out of the tube with enough force that he bowled Cedric over as he tried to stand up.

The collision knocked them down into a tangle of limbs and flailing robes which were covered in muck, although none had soaked into the fabric. Somehow Harry wound up on his back, with Cedric leaning over him.

“Well that was a ride,” said Cedric with a laugh, close enough Harry could feel the warmth of his breath, could almost fancy he felt Cedric’s body pressing his down despite the gap between them. Cedric’s presence was so close and so real Harry felt like he might drown in it.

Then Cedric pushed himself up in one smooth motion that had Harry’s skin feeling hot from a mixture of embarrassment and admiration. Cedric was just so much more at ease—so much stronger and cooler than Harry…

What the hell was he doing dragging someone like Cedric down here?

“Harry?”

Harry realized that Cedric was holding his hand out, and had been waiting for him to grasp it. Harry reached up, and he barely had to do anything, Cedric hauled him up so effortlessly Harry almost pitched forward and lost his balance again. Except Cedric steadied him, and when Harry grinned bashfully at him Cedric grinned back.

“The Chamber of Secrets is up ahead, right?” asked Cedric. Harry nodded. “Then let’s go.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, we’re already down here,” said Cedric lightly. “Besides, you promised me a dead basilisk, Potter, and I'm holding you to that.”

Cedric vanished the muck that evaded the charm on their robes, although Harry was still left a bit damp. He didn’t want to complain, though, since Cedric was already being so tolerant with this little adventure, and was so much better at magic than Harry was. Harry had a sinking feeling that Cedric would master the Patronus charm before he did, and the idea of him teaching Cedric anything was just laughable.

In the quiet punctuated only by the crunching of tiny bones under their feet Harry’s anxieties were given free reign.

“Was there a cave in?” asked Cedric when they came to the collapsed portion of the tunnel.

“Er—so you know how Professor Lockhart got hit with a memory charm last year?” Harry asked.

“Yes?” The look on Cedric’s face could only be described as horrified fascination, the curiosity that comes with a train wreck.

“So that might have happened on account of he was a fake who used memory charms to steal other people’s heroic exploits and pass them off as his own, and he tried to Obliviate Ron and me with Ron’s broken wand, and it misfired… badly.”

“Wait—what were Ron and Lockhart doing down here with you?” Cedric asked.

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story, so after we climb through this, I can tell you,” Harry said as he moved forward. But Cedric’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he gently steered Harry’s back. “Cedric?”

“ _Reducto!_ ” Cedric blasted the debris away into dust, only for the dust to be funneled back toward them in the tight hallway.

Harry’s eyes burned, and he was coughing until suddenly the air was clean. He looked at Cedric, who was also coughing, and looking sheepish. Around Cedric’s head, the air shimmered like a bubble and Harry realized there was one around his head as well.

“Sorry about that, wasn’t thinking,” said Cedric. Now that the majority of the dust had settled he tapped Harry’s bubble, and it popped.

Cedric used magic so readily, and he knew a variety of useful spells. He acted like a real wizard, whereas Harry still felt like he was fumbling along much of the time. His Patronus still wasn’t even corporeal after all, and Cedric wanted Harry to teach _him_? The thought was practically laughable.

“So, Lockhart and Ron were—Blimey!” Cedric was staring at the basilisk skin that was half-buried in rubble and torn apart from two explosions. “Is that…”

“Oh no, that’s just the shed skin,” said Harry with a dismissive wave. “The Chamber’s farther down the hall.”

“But—this skin—it’s huge!” Cedric was gaping at the dull green sheen of the decaying skin.

“The basilisk was bigger,” Harry told him cheerfully.

“What?” Cedric’s voice was weak, but he followed along dutifully when Harry started walking. Harry remembered the long walk from last time, the waiting horror of finding Ginny after hours alone in the Chamber. This time, he was with Cedric, and no one was in danger—well, maybe Harry’s pride was in danger, but nothing else.

“Right, so… the thing about Lockhart is,” and Harry told Cedric the whole story about how Lockhart was just a glory hound and a coward, and how he’d used memory charms to steal the heroic exploits of others and pass them off as his own. That Harry and Ron had gone to Lockhart when they uncovered the truth of the Chamber thanks to Hermione’s research and then how Harry had left Ron behind to go stop Voldemort once more.

So far Harry had avoided mentioning Ginny. He should have known Cedric would see the hole in his story.

“The diary wouldn’t have been able to do all this on its own, though,” said Cedric with the assuredness of someone who was studying for their OWLs. “It possessed someone, didn't it?”

“Yeah, it did.” Harry bit his lip. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Should you even be telling me?”

“I trust you,” said Harry and hoped he wasn’t imagining Cedric’s pleased expression or the dusting of rose-pink on his cheeks. “It was Ginny Weasely.”

“Merlin… but she was just a first year!”

“My first year wasn’t exactly uneventful either, remember?” Harry looked at Cedric pointedly, their earlier conversation hanging in the air to replace the dust that had settled from Cedric’s spell.

Cedric might not have thought Harry was lying per se, but he obviously hadn’t believed him. Now, though, even without getting to the basilisk, Harry could almost see the wheels turning in Cedric’s head as he put pieces together. It reminded Harry of when Ron would stare contemplatively at the chessboard right before he put Harry in checkmate a few moves later.

“Dumbledore knows about all of this, right?”

Harry blinked, almost nonplussed because he hadn’t been expecting that question. “For the most part, yeah. He seems to know most things without me telling him anyway.”

“Which means he must have told the Ministry,” Cedric went on. “And since there hasn’t been a Daily Prophet running the headline ‘You Know Who Returns’ it’s safe to assume they don’t believe him—or you.”

“That about sums it up,” said Harry. He was content to leave it at that, but Cedric was turning to face him fully, and touching his Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Harry.”

Harry felt a warm glow bank in his belly at Cedric’s words, and he smiled at Cedric. “That’s alright, I mean, it’s a bit outrageous, isn’t it? Besides, you were willing to listen, even if you didn’t believe me at first. That means a lot to me.”

Uh oh, that was decidedly more than Harry had wanted to say. Cedric didn’t seem put off, though, if anything he looked reassured.

“You’re a good egg, Harry,” Cedric said as he slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder and promptly short-circuited Harry’s brain. “I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other better.”

“Thanks, Cedric, me too.” Harry tried not to feel too elated, especially when there was a worry niggling at the back of his thoughts. “You really mean that?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” They’d stopped talking and separated enough so Cedric could look Harry in the eye, confusion etched on his handsome features.

“I don’t know… it’s a lot, being my friend. It can be dangerous,” said Harry, waving his hand around to indicate their current location.

“I can see that,” said Cedric. Harry bit his lip in worry, but then Cedric offered Harry a tentative grin. “Bit of an adventure, though, surely?”

“Aside from the mortal peril?” Harry returned wryly, and Cedric chuckled. Harry relaxed, his shoulders, which he hadn’t even realized he'd raised, had loosened, and the tension dropped from his neck. “I reckon so—well, that’s what Ron and I thought the first time we found Fluffy, but… last year and this one, not so much.”

“Fluffy?” Cedric asked quickly, most likely to take Harry’s mind off of his parents’ murderer.

“So, remember the obstacles to the Philosopher’s Stone that I told you about?”

They walked through the tunnel as it twisted through the earth, Harry talking freely to Cedric in a way that he’d never really done before. Harry wasn’t typically a chatterbox, but talking to Cedric was just so easy the words came almost unbidden. Also, Cedric's reactions were very gratifying, as he was visibly impressed by what Harry said, and Harry felt like he stood a bit taller in Cedric's eyes. Or at least he hoped he did so.

Finally, they arrived at the wall with two entwined serpents carved into it, their emerald eyes glinting eerily in the dim light. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Open,” said Harry, in a low, soft hiss. The eyes seemed to flicker with strange lights dancing inside the facets as if they were somehow alive. Behind him, Cedric shivered as the serpents parted and the wall split into halves that slid smoothly out of sight.

They stood at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Harry had already seen the towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents that rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness. He’d already walked through the long, black shadows that the room cast through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the chill silence of the Chamber.

Since Harry had already seen this, he got to watch Cedric see it for the first time. In the dusky, strange light Cedric’s handsome features eerily echoed Tom Riddle’s in certain ways, namely that handsome charm that made Harry’s stomach do somersaults into his lungs.

Except for how Tom Riddle would never wear an expression of open awe like Cedric currently wore. Tom Riddle wouldn’t walk with Harry's shoulder pressed to his, lighting the way together and exchanging conspiratorial glances, as if Harry were assuring Cedric that yes, all this was real.

Their voices and footsteps echoed loudly off the shadowed walls as they strolled between the serpentine columns. Harry was better able to ignore the hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes that seemed to follow him through the room. Finally, they drew near with the last pair of pillars and the statue of Salazar Slytherin—and at its feet the dead basilisk.

“That Slytherin thought a bit much of himself, didn’t he?” asked Cedric, who was staring up at the statue with a bemused expression. This was good for Harry’s purpose because it meant he ignored the massive moldering basilisk corpse nesting between the two enormous gray feet until they were nearly on top of it. “Wait—is that?”

“Taadaa!” Harry gestured at the basilisk with a dramatic flourish just like the Great Humberto whom Dudley still obsessed over. He looked at Cedric to check his reaction—he wasn’t disappointed.

“Shit on a broomstick!” Cedric gaped at the massive decaying basilisk without reservation, his eyes wide as dinner plates. Harry could see Cedric taking in the size of the king of serpents—and also absorbing that Harry wasn’t lying. “Bloody buggering hell it’s huge!”

“Yep. Killed it last year, just like I told you,” Harry said with relish, smacking his lips in no small amount of bloodthirsty pride. “Pulled Gryffindor’s sword out of the Sorting Hat and just—right there—stabbed it through the mouth, I would have died too—it bit me—but Fawkes was there and healed me.”

“Fawkes?” Cedric asked weakly.

“Dumbledore’s phoenix. Phoenix tears can cure most anything,” said Harry matter-of-factly.

“And if Fawkes hadn’t been there, you would have died?” Something in Cedric’s tone set off alarm bells in Harry’s head.

“Yeah, I might have, but I didn’t,” he said almost gently. He didn’t want to scare Cedric, which in retrospect made this whole excursion pretty counterproductive.

“Merlin, Harry, you…” Cedric had one hand covering his mouth, staring at the basilisk, before he dropped it to exhale deeply. “You really did kill a basilisk last year.”

Cedric’s tone spoke to his understanding—that everything Harry had told him was true. Harry knew it was fantastical and difficult to believe, and while he resented people who thought he’d lie about important things like this, Harry had been telling the truth when he said the most important thing was that Cedric was willing to listen. Because even if Cedric hadn’t believed Harry at first he’d trusted Harry enough to let Harry show him proof, and now Cedric _knew_.

Only now that Cedric knew part of Harry wondered once again if this had been the best choice. He hung in the agony of indecisions as Cedric looked over the basilisk and then the gargantuan statue of Slytherin.

“I only did what I had to,” said Harry after the silence became too heavy to bear. As much as he wanted to impress Cedric he didn’t want to come off as though he wanted this sort of thing to happen.

“No, you didn’t,” said Cedric, and before Harry could protest he added. “You did the right thing. That’s not the same, Harry.”

The look Cedric turned on him then was so full of affection and admiration that Harry felt his breath had been caught, pinned like a butterfly inside his lungs.

“I mean if you say so,” Harry said, well aware that his cheeks were on fire, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Cedric didn’t just believe him; Cedric believed in his choices. Harry didn’t dare hope Cedric was looking at him differently, and yet the idea still blossomed unwillingly in his brain, drawing all his hopes down in an insatiable spiral.

“I do,” said Cedric firmly, looking at the basilisk. Harry remembered that this boy before him wasn’t just beautiful on the outside, but that he also believed in fairness and doing the right thing. Here was the boy who’d saved him from falling to the dementors during a Quidditch game and tried to refuse victory despite the rules of the match because he felt it wouldn't be right to win in such a way. And now Cedric seemed to be reaching some manner of conclusion, his shoulders firming as his back straightened, and his gray eyes were steady when he looked at Harry.

“I think I’d very much like to practice the Patronus Charm, Harry,” he said.

“Maybe not down here?” Harry looked up at the looming statue of Salazar Slytherin and the basilisk corpse.

“I agree, it’s not very scenic,” said Cedric dryly. “Although the dead basilisk _is_ impressive.”

“You reckon so?” Harry asked with a wide grin as they walked toward the entrance of the Chamber. “Maybe I ought to take the head and have it mounted as a trophy.”

"You’ve got time to make a decision, it’s not going anywhere fast,” said Cedric. The easy banter relaxed Harry after the intensity of their little adventure. In fact, he almost felt like floating, because Cedric _believed_ him.

“Honestly though?” Cedric was still talking, and Harry did his best to actually pay attention instead of trying to stare from the corner of his eyes. “I imagine someone would pay a load of galleons for a basilisk skeleton. My dad’s a magizoologist; he’d probably know a buyer.”

“What’s a magizoologist?”

“Aren’t you taking Care of Magical Creatures?” asked Cedric with a warm almost patronizing amusement that still had Harry feeling hot and bothered.

“Well, I wasn’t sure—it’s a magical zoologist then?” Harry was having trouble picturing Cedric’s father now. Previously he’d imagined Cedric had very attractive and professional parents, but now all he could think of was a somewhat diminished version of Hagrid.

"Exactly so,” Cedric told him. “So, back to the entrance to get out of here?”

Harry’s heart sank as he realized something awful. “Er… Yeah, but, last time Fawkes carried us out…”

Cedric was staring at him. Harry cringed, and Cedric sighed, his hands drifting to settle at his hips as he surveyed the Chamber. Harry felt like the stupidest person who had ever lived.

“Well, there’s no way that Salazar Slytherin was mucking about down here without a way back up,” said Cedric. “Hogwarts wasn’t originally built with plumbing, so someone must have made sure the Chamber was still accessible during reconstruction. Maybe there’s another passage?”

They poked around the Chamber, looking for a way out. Harry hissed at various snakes, and Cedric prodded emeralds and whispered spells Harry didn’t know, but nothing happened, and they found no secret exit.

“I wish there were some way we could get our brooms,” Harry muttered, thinking of how easy it’d be just to fly up the pipe like Fawkes had.

Cedric slapped his forehead. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Some wizard I am… Come on!”

“Cedric?” Harry trotted after him as Cedric strode out of the chamber.

“Where do you keep your broom, in your trunk?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Er—yes?” Harry caught up to Cedric, peering at him curiously. Cedric seemed brighter, and focused, which calmed Harry. Cedric would get them out of here.

“Neville said he was going back up to your dorm, right?” asked Cedric as they made the first few turns out of the Chamber. “Hopefully, he’ll let your broom out—none of my dorm mates are back from Hogsmeade, I’m sure. _Accio_ Harry’s Firebolt!”

  

* * *

         

The wait for Harry’s broom was punctuated by Harry’s attempting to apologize until Cedric almost got a bit sharp with him.

“Honestly, Harry, it’s fine. The worst that happens is this doesn’t work, and we have to wait for the teachers to notice we’re missing.”

Harry winced. Bad enough he’d embarrassed himself by planning this out so poorly, but now he was irritating Cedric. Luckily, before he could make things worse by apologizing again, Harry’s broom came shooting out of the pipe.

“Cedric! You did it!” Harry cheered as his Firebolt settled into Cedric’s hand. Cedric looked rather pleased with himself and grinned at Harry.

“Told you it was nothing to worry over,” he said brandishing the broom at Harry. “Here you go.”

“So, I’ll—er…” Harry looked at the broom and trailed off. “Maybe you should? Since you’re bigger and all.”

“I should what?”

“Be the… one sitting.” Harry realized he wanted to sit in Cedric’s lap, which meant he couldn’t—that he shouldn’t. That would be… bad. But how else would they two of them get up the pipe?

“As opposed to?” Cedric’s eyes widened. “Oh—no we don’t need to double up, I was just going to summon the broom back after you’d gone up.”

“Oh.” Right.

“I mean we could to save time or something, I’m just concerned you might knock your head,” said Cedric looking speculatively at the pipe.

“Oh. Well…” Harry swallowed what felt like one of Aunt Marge’s fruitcakes that she sent the Dursleys every year, and not even Dudley would eat out of spite when it was inevitably “gifted” to Harry. “I reckon that makes more sense then.”

“I’ll be fine, Harry,” said Cedric gently. He must have read Harry’s impulse as concern, which Harry would be happy to cop to in place of the truth—that he just wanted to be closer to Cedric. It was an impulse he still avoided examining to the best of his ability, but this yearning wasn’t fading if anything being around Cedric kept banking the fire smoldering in his chest, with the fire’s smoke endlessly catching in his throat. “Hop on then, and I’ll summon the broom back in—three minutes?”

“Make it two,” Harry threw the words over his shoulder like he was flourishing a cape. On a broom, his confidence came rushing back, and to his delight, Cedric laughed.

Harry enjoyed making Cedric laugh.

“You’re on, Potter!”

Well, Harry reflected as he shot up the pipe, at least the whole outing had gone so awfully there was no way it could be mistaken for any sort of… date or anything like that. Which also didn’t disappoint Harry in the least, because why would it? He didn’t want it to be a date, obviously. He just kept thinking about it that way for some reason.

He'd have to try harder to keep such unseemly desires under wraps, if he wasn't careful, he might act one them. Then Cedric wouldn't want to spend time with him anymore, or anyone else probably.

It wasn’t right to think that way, so Harry focused on flying. When he exited the pipe into the bathroom, there was no sign of Myrtle, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

He dismounted and took a deep fortifying breath. A few moments later his Firebolt tugged in his hand, and he let it go.

Harry watched his broom disappear down the pipe with a bemused expression. Then he heard a furious clomping of feet. Harry stood up just in time for Neville to burst through the door, staggering with one hand pressed to his side, his chest heaving as he looked about frantically. Then he noticed Harry.

“Harry!” Neville's panicked look grew worse. His cheeks flushed, and his breath was coming in great heaving gasps as he tried to talk. “I’m sorry—your broom was—and I opened your trunk—I didn’t think—and then I was chasing it but—your broom’s gone! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all right, Neville!” Harry finally managed to get a word in over Neville’s gasping hysterics. “I’m sorry, you did exactly what we hoped you’d do, so don’t worry.”

“What?” Neville had finally slowed down enough to catch his breath.

“I—er, well Cedric had to summon it to get us out of…” Harry trailed off, and Neville seemed to notice the gaping entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Is that the Chamber of Secrets?” Neville gaped, and Harry realized that as much as his fellow Gryffindors had decidedly less vague notions of what he got up to than the rest of the school, they’d never been given much proof either.

“It is,” said Harry. “I was—well I wanted to show Cedric I wasn’t making up stories for the glory.”

“Why in the world would he think that?” asked Neville with such genuine curiosity that Harry felt a surge of affection for his most hapless housemate.

“Because most people don’t believe me when I tell them things,” said Harry without bitterness. Or at least without much bitterness, he thought. “I wanted to show Cedric proof.”

“I reckon that makes sense,” said Neville peering uneasily at the chamber entrance. “You and Ron are real Gryffindors, I could never go down there, I’d be too frightened.”

Harry looked at Neville oddly. “Neville, you know Ron and I were terrified, right? I mean, Ginny was down there.”

“I know, but… I mean that’s not the same as—the thing is you went down there. I’m not that brave.”

“I reckon you don’t know how brave you are until you have to make a choice,” said Harry. “And I know you have no problem standing up to people if you think it’s the right thing to do. If Ginny was stuck down there right now and you were the only one who could rescue her in time would you just not do it?”

“Well, no! But that’s not…” Neville scuffed his shoes on the stone. “You really were scared, honest?”

“Terrified,” Harry told him. “I don’t think bravery means you don’t feel fear, Neville. I think it just means… some things are more important than your fear. And you know what that’s like.”

Harry’s thoughts unwillingly cast back to the dementors. Neville, however, seemed greatly heartened by his words.

“Thanks, Harry, that’s awfully nice of you to say.” Neville had finally gotten his breath back from sprinting along after Harry’s broom.

Just then a whooshing sound preceded Cedric’s arrival by mere seconds.

“LOOK OUT!” Cedric hollered as he shot out of the entrance just a touch too fast. He pulled up hard to slow down and wound up hanging in the air upside down for a moment before he had to pull up again to avoid spiraling into the wall—at which point Cedric made a rather messy and extended tumble of a landing on the bathroom floor.

“Cedric! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a little carried away on the Firebolt.” Cedric grinned at him bashfully, his cheeks pink. Harry offered him a hand up which he took, and Harry had to strain a bit to make it seem like hauling Cedric up didn’t take as much effort as it did.

Harry didn’t exactly enjoy being short and scrawny, but until now he’d never really resented it. Cedric, though… Cedric was tall, and he had felt like actual muscles under his robes like Oliver did.

For some reason, the thought made Harry’s mouth dry, and his throat taut. Mostly it made him feel positively shrimpy next to Cedric.

“You definitely know how to deliver on a promise, Potter,” he said lightly, and Harry couldn’t help grinning back as Cedric passed him his Firebolt. “That’s one down.”

“One down what?” asked Neville, and Harry tried not to look as irritated as he felt that Neville was still there.

“Adventures Harry promised me,” said Cedric, turning his brilliant grin on Neville, which was just not on in Harry’s opinion.

“Neville, would you mind taking my broom when you go back to the tower?”

“Sure! I mean not at all! Er… I’ll just take it,” Neville finally managed to get out. Harry pressed the broom into Neville’s hands, eager to have him out of their hair.

“Maybe you should close that up, too,” Cedric suggested with a look at the Chamber’s entrance.

“ _Close_ _up_ ,” Harry hissed at the entrance. Neville jumped when Harry used Parseltongue and the sink shut itself over the pipes.

“Blimey…” Neville’s voice trailed off, and he coughed into his hand, almost smacking himself in the face with Harry’s broom. “I’ll just—be going then.”

When he was gone Cedric turned to Harry looking a bit rueful, and a bit tired. “So, you still up for teaching me the Patronus Charm?”

 

* * *

          

Cedric had convinced Harry they didn't need to practice with a Boggart like Harry did with Lupin, not that Harry required much convincing. The last thing he needed was to swoon in the face of a dementor again with Cedric around.

Instead, they had stashed themselves away in one of the many study nooks in the library. Usually, all the best one study spots, namely those with the most privacy, were monopolized by older students, but with everyone at Hogsmeade, Harry and Cedric had their pick of the lot. Not that anyone else was in the library anyway—except a couple of very harried-looking seventh years, whom Cedric had explained were probably panicking over their NEWTs.

So Harry had sat down across from Cedric, his robes still a bit damp but almost dry by now, and tried to marshal his memories of Lupin’s lessons in some sort of order.

“And you have to concentrate with all your might on a very happy memory,” Harry told Cedric, who was listening attentively. “Otherwise, the spell won’t work.”

“I reckon it’s that kind of charm, isn’t it?” Cedric mused, idly fiddling with his wand.

“What kind of charm is that?” asked Harry.

“One that’s driven by powerful emotional intent,” Cedric explained, his handsome brow furrowed while he stared at his wand. “The more powerful a charm—or any spell—the more focus it requires. And the really powerful charms… you have to _mean_ them to cast them effectively. The Patronus Charm must require a great deal of joy to cast, which is why Professor Lupin told you to concentrate on a happy memory. That would be the fastest way to access that kind of emotional state.”

“Oh.” Harry hadn’t considered the ramifications of Lupin’s teaching methods; he’d just done his best to master them. “So you could cast it just with a feeling, rather than a memory?”

“Certainly!” Cedric seemed very at home lecturing about magic, and Harry found it easy to concentrate on what he was saying. “But it can be hard to summon that level of emotion on command.”

“Right,” said Harry, thinking of how difficult it was to invoke joy in the face of even a fake dementors. “But once you learn that then you’re set, right?”

“Well, you know how to do it, and you know you can do it,” said Cedric, shifting his grip on his wand like he’d come to a decision. “It’s not a guarantee, though. Professor Vector tells us, ‘you should treat every spell you cast as though it were your first,’ and although no one actually _does_ that, it’s a good point.”

“So what other sorts of spells are like this?” asked Harry.

Cedric stood up, not meeting Harry’s eyes for a moment. “Pretty much any charm at NEWT level or higher, particularly the more powerful charms—and curses.”

“Curses?”

“Not every spell is fuelled by joy, Harry,” Cedric said his eyes drifting towards Harry’s scar. Something was odd about Cedric’s gaze, though, where there typically sat fear or awe when wizards saw Harry's scar instead blazed a fierce determination that Harry didn’t quite know how to interpret.

The air grew thick between them with awkward silence.

“But this spell _is_ supposed to be fuelled by joy, so maybe it’d be best to focus on a memory now,” said Cedric lightly.

Harry took that as permission to remain quiet, only Cedric kept looking at him.

“Cedric?”

“The incantation—Expecto Patronum, right?” Cedric pronounced it exactly right.

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed, the noise incongruously loud in the library’s quiet atmosphere.

“Alright.” Finally, Cedric closed his eyes, and Harry felt a sliver of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding drop from his shoulders.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

Silver mist unfurled from the end of Cedric’s wand, a thick cloud that hung in the air sparkling like quicksilver before it dissipated.

“Cedric! That was incredible!” Harry told him.

“It wasn’t even corporeal, Harry,” Cedric demurred, not frowning but clearly dissatisfied.

“Well, my first time I made barely any smoke at all and I still can’t manage a corporeal one,” said Harry.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dismiss the compliment,” said Cedric meeting Harry’s gaze ruefully. “I just… don’t like being praised for things I didn’t earn.”

“You’re such a proper Hufflepuff,” Harry teased him.

“Said the basilisk slayer from Gryffindor,” Cedric returned, his gray eyes shimmering with good humor.

“Maybe you need a happier memory?” asked Harry.

“I don’t think so, this one was pretty good,” said Cedric with a grin that made Harry wonder just what memory he was using. “I just need to practice holding that feeling—should be good practice with OWLs coming up.”

“I thought you said only the most powerful charms use this kind of emotion?”

“Well, that’s true, but all spells take focus, right? Charms tend to use emotions, but, as an example, focus on form, or determination, is more important than emotional intent when it comes to transfiguration,” said Cedric. “Just look at the difference between Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall.”

Harry compared and contrasted the strict, matronly head of his house with the squat, bubbly head of Ravenclaw in his mind’s eye. He could see what Cedric was talking about concerning emotional intent versus intellectual intent.

“Why don’t they teach us that from the start then?” Harry complained.

“Because you don’t learn any spells that require that level of motivation until fifth year usually,” said Cedric. “Getting the basics of wand waving and general spell focus is important, that's the foundation. Like... wand movement is critical to a proper _Wingardium_ _Leviosa_ , but for the Patronus, you pretty much just point and circle, right?”

Cedric cast the levitation spell on a cushion, his wand moving through a perfect swish-and-flick that reminded Harry guiltily of Hermione. Unlike Hermione, he didn’t say the spell aloud, which left Harry very impressed. He’d only seen professors and other adult wizards use wordless spellcasting.

“You just have to focus on wanting something to move, but the wand work does most of the heavy lifting. That's so eventually you can do more than just wanting a spell’s result, you make the spell an extension of your will,” said Cedric. He looked thoughtfully at Harry. “You’re not taking Arithmancy, are you?”

“No.” Harry realized he was dreading the follow-up question.

“What are you taking?”

“Care of Magical Creatures… and Divination,” said Harry, feeling a bit foolish. Cedric was probably taking electives like Hermione’s, although Harry still wasn’t certain how she attended all of them.

“Ah, well in Arithmancy you learn some of this a bit earlier,” said Cedric. Then he cast a sly look Harry's way. “Divination, huh?”

Cedric's grin aid he knew exactly why Harry had taken Divination--for the easy grade. Harry still felt a bit embarrassed, but it was evident Cedric thought it a good laugh.

“You want to try it again?” asked Harry.

Cedric raised his wand to cast the spell anew when a voice interrupted them.

“Harry?” Somewhere beyond the stacks around them Hermione was hissing loudly in an attempt to shout while whispering.

“Hermione?” Harry called out more than a little nonplussed. One small bout of trampling feet preceded the arrive of Hermione and Ron, who rushed up to them red faced and clearly upset. Harry was so flabbergasted at seeing the two of them together he remained speechless as Hermione babbled out her story.

Buckbeak’s sentence had been handed down, and he was to be executed—and Hagrid would need help with an appeal.

By the time Hermione finished talking and Harry had agreed they needed to do something Cedric was looking thoughtful.

“You know, my dad is a Magizoologist who consults for the Ministry,” he told them. “If you want I could write him, see if he could help with the appeal.”

“You would?” Hermione asked, her shoulders slumping with relief even as her eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, Cedric, that’s marvelous! Thank you ever so much!”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Cedric in a spontaneous hug. Cedric laughed, clearly a bit taken aback but still good-natured about the impromptu embrace. He patted Hermione on the back, casting Harry, and by proxy Ron, a bemused quirk of his eyebrows. Hermione pulled herself back a moment later, her cheeks flushed. Irritation surged in Harry’s chest again as it had at lunch, a prickly, crawling heat that made his jaw clench.

“I’ll send out an owl before I go to bed tonight,” Cedric promised them, but his eyes were only for Harry. “If my dad can help I know he will.”

“Thanks, Cedric, that’s really great of you,” Harry said, feeling mollified to have Cedric's focus. 

Cedric grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course.”

Harry’s hands twitched like his body wanted to touch or hug Cedric without his brain’s permission. Unfortunately, while Hermione, a girl, could get away with such a thing, Harry couldn't.

“Today was fun,” Cedric told him. When Harry gave him a skeptical look he laughed and scratched the back of his head, a hint of bashful pink dusting his cheeks. “Well, it was, though! For the most part.”

“If you say so,” Harry shrugged.

“I do,” said Cedric and something about the raw sincerity in those simple words made Harry’s spine tingle. “Same deal for next Hogsmeade weekend?”

“Yeah!” Harry said and then tried not to die when his voice broke in the middle of his reply. “I mean—sure. If that's alright.”

“Looking forward to it,” said Cedric. “I’ll let you three catch up.”

“Bye, Cedric,” Harry called after him, feeling a bit forlorn as Ceric walked away.

While Cedric’s departure had distracted Harry, Hermione and Ron had been busy officially making up and forgiving each other. Harry turned around just in time to see Hermione release Ron from a hug that had apparently put him on the edge of a mild panic.

“Well, he was getting old anyway,” Ron muttered. “And Harry, I’m sorry about, you know… this morning.”

“It’s fine,” said Harry, who was just relieved that his friends were talking to each other again.

Hermione caught them up on the details of her efforts to keep Buckbeak from being executed and Harry reflected that the day had turned out rather well, all things considered.  Taking a little break from Ron and Hermione had been good, but now that there had been apologies and hugs exchanged all was well once more with his closest friends. And if he was lucky, Cedric's father would be able to help Hagrid and Buckbeak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I'm seeing probably two more chapters before the canon starts to slough off like so much rough chrysalis, and then you guys get to put up with me and my wacky plots!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oy vey. well this took a while but it's also pretty big so I hope it's satisfying [rimshot]

The safety measures imposed on the students since Black’s second break-in made it impossible for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. Their only chance of talking to him was during Care of Magical Creatures lessons. When they finally caught up with him after their lessons, he seemed numb with shock at the verdict.

“S’all my fault. Got all tongue-tied.” Hagrid was doing his best not to cry and failing miserably, great big tears rolling down his ruddy cheeks into his wild dark beard. “They was all sittin’ there in black robes an’ I kep’ droppin’ me notes and forgettin’ all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An’ then Lucius Malfoy stood up an’ said his bit, and the Committee jus’ did exac’ly what he told ’em. . . .”

“There’s still the appeal!” said Ron fiercely as Hermione handed Hagrid a handkerchief. “And Cedric Diggory said he’d owl his dad for advice, so don’t give up yet!”

“He wha’?” Hagrid asked between sniffles. They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Ahead they could see Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle and kept looking back, laughing derisively.

“Cedric’s dad is a magizoologist who consults for the ministry,” Hermione told him. “When Ron and I told Harry about Buckbeak’s sentence Cedric said he’d ask him to help.”

“He did?” Hagrid blew his nose, sounding like nothing more than a foghorn.

“Cedric said his dad could write up an official review,” said Harry, who’d had a chance to talk it over with Cedric. “He can observe Buckbeak and then you can submit that as official evidence to the Committee that Buckbeak isn’t a danger!”

“Well… tha’ might work,” said Hagrid as he mopped up his face. He handed the sopping wet handkerchief back to Hermione who discretely vanished it when his back was turned. “Only problem ‘s Lucius Malfoy’s got the whole Committee in his pocket. I’m not sure even a magizoologist’s rec’mmendation can beat that. Jus’ ter be safe I’m gonna make sure the rest o’ Beaky’s time is the happiest he’s ever had. I owe him that…”

Hagrid cleared his throat, his eyes still watery but the look he turned on the three of them was very fond.

“It’s good ter see yeh all together again,” said Hagrid, sniffing up his tears and offering them a soppy but still present smile. “Beaky couldn’t ask fer better friends—an’ neither could I.”

Hagrid turned around and strode back to his cabin, rubbing his face in his arm to mop his remaining tears.

“Did you see him blubber!” Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening.

“Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?” Malfoy went on, oblivious the rapidly growing rage in the Gryffindors listening to him. “And he’s supposed to be our teacher!”

Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first — SMACK! She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again. No one dared talk back to her as she shouted.

After running Malfoy and his goons off Hermione turned to Harry, who was feeling very impressed with his other best friend at the moment.

“Harry, you’d better beat him in the Quidditch final!” Hermione said shrilly. “You just better had, because I can’t stand it if Slytherin wins!”

“We’re due in Charms,” whispered Ron, both he and Harry still goggling at Hermione. They hurried up the marble staircase toward Professor Flitwick’s classroom, making faces at each other behind Hermione’s back to communicate how impressed—and somewhat intimidated--they were.

“Would you two stop that? We’re going to be late!”

 

* * *

 

Overall, the weeks leading up to the Easter Holidays were the busiest Harry had ever experienced, at least in terms of schoolwork. Between Quidditch practices, the immense amount of homework they were assigned, Buckbeak’s appeal, and the ever-looming threat of Sirius Black, Harry barely had time to breathe.

He wasn’t unhappy, though—in fact, Harry felt his life was pretty good, all things considered. Ron and Hermione had made up for one, and for another Ron had grudgingly but steadily softened his stance on Cedric.

Ever since Cedric owled his father to help with Buckbeak’s appeal, Ron’s attitude toward Cedric had already begun shifting, but after Mr. Diggory owled Hagrid a veritable mountain of parchment, Ron would happily consult with Hagrid and then talk to Cedric who passed along questions to Mr. Diggory in his periodic letters home.

They were making good progress, though Harry felt a bit guilty for not helping as much as he thought he should. Hermione had earned the right to focus exclusively on her schoolwork, especially given how prodigious her workload was. But while Harry had his time consumed by Quidditch and the last of his anti-dementor lessons with Lupin, Ron attacked the appeal with a dogged determination that was almost Hermione-like in its intensity. Harry regularly found Ron reading impressively large books with dense titles like _The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology_ and _Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality_ and comparing them to Mr. Diggory’s notes. In fact, Ron's reading absorbed his attention so much that he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

Having Ron back in his corner was a major relief to Harry. Being on the outs with Hermione had been bad enough, he didn’t want things with Ron to be awkward either. Besides, now Harry got to have both his best friends back and a new friend too.

Also, Ron hadn’t told the twins that Harry had turned in the map, for which Harry was decidedly grateful.

 What made Harry happiest, though, even more so than practicing Cheering charms in Professor Flitwick’s class--for reasons he didn’t dare examine too carefully, either--was seeing Cedric in the halls. All it took was a wave and cheery smile from the handsome Hufflepuff for Harry to feel like bumblebees had started buzzing inside his chest.

Thankfully, with Ron now on good terms with Cedric, Harry didn’t get much flack from him, or Hermione, for his budding new friendship. Unforutanltey, not everyone else was quite so accepting.

Oliver Wood, in particular, seemed concerned that Cedric might be trying to sabotage Gryffindor’s chances for the cup, or at least searching for some advantage to get Hufflepuff an edge before their match with Slytherin. With Hufflepuff already having lost to Ravenclaw rather decisively, their match with Slytherin was their last chance to get back in the running.

Harry did his best to not roll his eyes at Wood’s concerns, but it was hard to take him seriously. As if Cedric would ever do something underhanded or unfair to win a Quidditch game—or anything! Besides, Hufflepuff’s match was against Slytherin, not Gryffindor. It wasn’t just Wood either, Fred and George and for some reason Lee Jordan also had begun razzing Harry for time spent with Cedric, supposedly making sure he wasn’t sharing team secrets.

Harry had a suspicion that while Wood’s concerns were on the up-and-up about Quidditch, Fred, George, and Lee’s had more to do with the way Katie, Alicia, and Angelina stuck up for Harry—and Cedric. At least Ron and Hermione were firmly on his side again, and Cedric didn’t even seem to notice the growing animosity from the twins and Lee.

 

* * *

 

It was a gray Saturday in March when Hufflepuff had their match against Slytherin. Luckily, since it was Slytherin they were playing, Harry wasn’t alone in cheering for Hufflepuff for once—even Wood had decided to clap when Hufflepuff came onto the field.

Nothing like a good vendetta to unite the Houses against a common enemy and absolutely no one wanted to cheer for Slytherin.

“Give ‘em hell, Diggory!” Ron bellowed as Cedric and Flint went to shake hands in front of Hooch. Flint sneered at Cedric, looking brutish as ever and contrasting sharply with Cedric’s handsome nonchalance. Hooch exhorted both of them to play a good game, and then to shake hands.

Flint went for the handshake like a troll lunging for his favorite club, but Cedric didn’t flinch at his grip, looking utterly unruffled by Flint’s taunting. Although Flint had a troll’s bulky build, Cedric stood tall and unbowed, looking very striking to Harry’s mind. Where Flint snarled like a beast, Cedric grinned in mild bemusement, like he wasn’t quite sure why a lapdog had started growling at him.

Flint said something clearly mocking to Cedric, who replied with a smile and nod.

“It’s a bit like Beauty and the Beast down there, innit,” said Seamus with a laugh as Madam Pomfrey said something sharp to Flint who pulled back. “Oi—look at Flint!”

Whatever it was that Cedric had said to him, Flint was red-faced, his brutish looks positively bestial with fury. He tried to crush Cedric’s hand in his grip, but Cedric had already slipped his hand loose.

“What do you think he said?” asked Harry.

“I dunno, must’ve insulted his mum or something,” Ron replied. “Oh! Diggory you dog!”

Harry laughed as Cedric absentmindedly wiped his hand on his Quidditch uniform like he’d stuck it in something foul, not even bothering to look at Flint anymore, who seemed like he was about to throw down his broom and wand and wring Cedric’s neck with his bare hands.

“Pretty boy’s got some teeth,” said Fred grudgingly from just behind them.

“Badgers are pound for pound some of the most aggressive animals on the planet,” said Hermione with the distracted air she got when she was recalling some tidbit of information from a book she’d read years ago. “Well, Muggle animals, I suppose.”

“You hear that, Angelina?” Katie taunted Angelina with a massive grin and a nudge that bordered on a shove. “Badgers are _aggressive_.”

“I’ll show you aggressive,” Angelina shot back at with a solid check to Katie’s hip that made the bench shake and slid her into Alicia, who laughing shoved Katie back. The girls squabbled happily before leaning into each other, giggling like first years.

Doing his best not to scowl, Harry’s gaze slid to Fred, who also didn’t seem too pleased with Katie’s teasing either. Harry knew that Fred had a thing for Angelina, but honestly, it wasn’t Cedric’s fault he was so attractive! Anyone would want him for a boyfriend, at least in Harry’s opinion, so Fred had no call being jealous.

Then again, neither did Harry, but it was fine since no one would ever find out he was being so… queerly possessive. Those thoughts would stay locked up in his head where they could do no harm to him, or his friendship with Cedric.

“Don’t worry, mate, Cedric’s a big boy,” said Ron in a low voice and Harry started. He hadn’t realized he’d looked concerned, but thankfully only Ron seemed to have noticed.

“I know that!” Harry protested quietly. Ron just gave him a knowing look that made Harry feel oddly naked, but then their attention was diverted by Madam Hooch’s whistle.

“And the game’s on! We’ve got Prewett in possession dodging under Bletchley—you know you’d think that after Malfoy buying his way onto the team with all new brooms they’d at least have learned to fly them by now—sorry, Professor.”

Lee’s commentary was as lively as ever at least, and as long as he was up in the announcer’s booth, he wasn’t down in the stands egging Fred on about Cedric.

“She’s fast—what broom is that? A Cleansweep Ten?” asked Harry as Prewett scored the first point of the game.

“Yeah, I reckon so,” said Ron. “She’s a Quodpot enthusiast. The whole family is, absolute nutters the lot of them—oh, bloody hell!”

Before Harry could ask Ron how he knew so much about someone from Hufflepuff the crowd surged to its feet as Flint rammed into Prewett just after she’d scored.

“FOUL!” The crowds screamed and Prewett, who had close-cropped strawberry blond hair and biceps nearly as big as Flint’s, roared as she charged back at him. The look of shock on his face made Harry and the rest of Gryffindor echo with laughter.

Unfortunately, Slytherin managed to emerge from the scuffle with only a single penalty, while Hufflepuff managed to net three. After that, the game went downhill rapidly.

Hufflepuff didn’t just lose—they got massacred. Cedric was a capable and talented seeker, but Malfoy wasn’t awful, as much as Harry would never admit that aloud, and could keep up the pressure right alongside Cedric. More importantly, Flint ran a truly brutal game. Cedric had to spend far too much time rallying his team and driving back aggressive plays instead of hunting for the Snitch, which gave Malfoy free reign of the field.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team watched the Slytherins rack up point after point with growing dismay. Wood gnawed on his fingernails and even Fred had started cheering for Cedric, albeit with backhanded compliments like “c’mon, Diggory, you’re a better flyer than that!”

It did no good. Flint’s team kept up the pressure magnificently, and Cedric couldn’t rally his team enough to drive them off. The Hufflepuff team had no members older than their fifth years, and Slytherin team was nearly all upperclassmen except for Malfoy. That combined with their still near-cutting edge brooms gave them an unassailable edge over the Hufflepuffs.

Harry spotted the Snitch just before Malfoy did. Cedric noticed a moment later, and even though he was closer, Malfoy had the better broom and was already hurtling towards the Snitch at speed.

The game ended with Malfoy crowing in triumph as the Slytherins flocked around him, a sight that was more galling that usual given Malfoy’s crusade against Buckbeak—acting like he hadn’t won against Cedric because his team played dirty only topped off Harry’s already considerable anger.

Harry was going to _destroy_ Malfoy in their match.

 

* * *

 

After the game, Harry and the rest of Gryffindor trouped back to the tower. He’d thought briefly about ducking over to see Cedric, but he figured Hufflepuff needed their captain right now. Besides, Cedric had to have lots of friends in his own house to talk with him, so he didn’t need Harry.

About halfway up the tower Wood finally finished doing the mental arithmetic for the point spread Gryffindor would need to win the House Cup, and promptly informed Harry and the rest of the team at length about it.

The game was scheduled for the weekend after the Easter holidays and never, in anyone’s memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the prospect of winning the Quidditch Cup for the first time since the legendary Charlie Weasley had been Seeker. But Harry doubted whether any of them, even Wood, wanted to win as much as he did.

For one thing, the enmity between Harry and Malfoy had reached its highest point ever. Harry hadn’t forgotten Malfoy’s attempt to sabotage him in the match against Ravenclaw, but it was the matter of Buckbeak that made him most determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school.

By the time the holidays were over, the tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

Harry had a particularly bad time of it at first. His first day back after the holidays he quickly discovered that he couldn’t even walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up. When Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went only to slouch away looking disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people, Harry took matters into his own hands.

Donning his invisibility cloak not only meant the Slytherins couldn’t find him, but neither could his housemates. Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action, and the whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so much so it became near impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd.

Invisibility neatly solved that problem, although he did wind up passing between classes with a crowd anyway. Regardless, Harry was more concerned for his Firebolt’s safety than his own. When he wasn’t flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower under his cloak at break times to check that it was still there.

His crowd of overbearing protectors ran off more than just Harry’s potential assailants—they nearly ran off his newest friend.

Harry was lingering toward the back of the crowd, walking beside Ron and Hermione who were doing their best to keep people from bumping into him under the cloak, when Cedric approached the group of Gryffindors. Harry hadn’t had a chance to speak with him much since the game against Slytherin, and he worried that Cedric looked tired. Most of the fifth and seventh years did these days.

“Looking for something, Diggory?” Fred asked more mockingly than Harry felt was really called for.

Cedric didn’t react, just smiled at Fred with the same pleasantly confused look he’d given Flint on the pitch, his eyes searching the group of Gryffindors—looking for Harry, a realization that made Harry feel like he’d drunk something especially fizzy that somehow poured that fizzing directly into his veins.

“Cedric!” Ron called out and trotted forward through the crowd. Harry watched in bemused relief as Ron strode over to the faceoff. “Thanks for coming, mate, I’ve got a couple more questions for your dad about Buckbeak’s appeal. Got a mo’?”

“Er—yes, I do,” said Cedric, only taking a moment to realize what Ron was doing.

“Right, Hermione do you have the—er, thing?” Ron looked at her significantly, having run out of steam midway through his deception.

“You mean the dates Hagrid blocked out for Mr. Diggory to come give his review?” asked Hermione just a bit too superiorly for those who knew her best, playing her part up.

For all that Hermione abhorred breaking the rules, she’d been revealed as an inspired liar ever since that time Ron and Harry had rescued her from a troll, something neither Harry nor Ron had ever forgotten. Hermione hated to break the rules, but when she did break them, she broke them _hard._

For most of their housemates, though, it was an easy sell. Chuckles rang out amongst the group.

Ron turned to Fred and George. “We’ll catch up with you later, alright?”

Fred and George didn’t look pleased to be letting Cedric commandeer their little brother, but Buckbeak’s name might as well have been a protective amulet. Everyone in the tower by now knew that Ron was working on Buckbeak’s appeal for Hagrid and that Cedric was helping him. Since Hagrid was well liked in Gryffindor tower—by most students actually, barring the Slytherins, of course—that gave Cedric a sort of immunity or at the very least an excuse to come see Harry during such a tense Quidditch season.

Really, it was almost worth it just to see the sour looks on Fred and George’s face as they let Cedric go.

“Thanks for that, Ron,” said Cedric dryly, watching the pack of Gryffindors move onward. “I don’t think your brothers much like me.”

“No, I reckon they don’t,” said Ron, casing the hallway. “You want to talk to Harry?”

“Just wanted to check in with him, and I thought he’d be with you,” said Cedric.

“I’m right here,” said Harry pulling his invisibility cloak up and was treated to Cedric yelping in shock. He’d never seen Cedric lose his composure quite so dramatically, and Harry sniggered as Cedric gawked at Harry's face appearing in mid-air.

“You’ve got an invisibility cloak, too?” Cedric's voice rose to near the breaking point in shock.

Harry shrugged, suddenly worrying he was coming off like a bit of a showboat—or even worse, spoiled like Malfoy.

“Yeah, it was my dad’s. Ron, Hermione, I’ll catch up to you at class.”

“Alright, but don’t take too long,” said Hermione, horribly severe for a girl whose hair was even more frazzled than usual and who had stuffed her book bag with so many papers and books that it strained at the seams.

Harry waved his friends off and shot Ron a puzzled look for the underhand thumbs up he gave him. Ron was his best mate and all, but sometimes he confused Harry. One moment he hated Cedric, the next he was helping Cedric out and acting chummy with him. It didn’t quite make sense, but Harry wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Or a gift racing broom for curses, as the case may be.

“Your guard dogs—or lions I suppose—are very vigilant,” said Cedric dryly and Harry rolled his eyes. They made their way into one of Hogwarts’s many nooks and crannies, where Harry bundled his invisibility cloak into his bookbag.

“They’re bloody well overbearing is what they are. I’m more worried about my broom, to be honest.” Harry told Cedric how he kept running back up to the tower to check on it.

“Why not just give it to Professor McGonagall?” Cedric asked, and Harry’s jaw snapped shut with a stupefied click. “Or Professor Lupin, I suppose if you’d rather.”

“I… hadn’t thought of that.” Going to teachers, or any authority figure, for help wasn’t anywhere near Harry’s first instinct. But Cedric wasn’t like other people who had doubted Harry over the course of his life because Cedric had let Harry prove himself right.

“Well, everyone knows McGonagall’s the most Quidditch mad professor here aside from Hooch,” Cedric continued blithely, as Harry didn’t know that at all. “And didn’t she hold it for you earlier this year?”

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice cracked on the word, but Cedric didn’t seem to notice.

“So I reckon that solves that, right? Take a load off your mind at least,” said Cedric. Concern crinkled his brow as he looked over Harry. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s a bit stressful, but you know how it is,” said Harry and Cedric snorted.

“I do. I mean, I love the House Cup, but sometimes I wish we could just play, y’know? Interhouse scrimmages for fun and no House points,” said Cedric almost wistfully.

“I’ve never really played just for fun,” Harry offered with a shrug. To him, flying was flying, and Quidditch was Quidditch. Sure, he loved winning, and he loved winning for his House, but he mostly loved playing. “Well, I did at the Weasley's, but we didn’t have enough people for a real game.”

“Well, maybe we can brew something up,” said Cedric. He bumped Harry’s shoulder and offered him a conspiratorial grin. “After you guys get revenge for the rest of us on Slytherin, of course!”

Harry grinned back, relieved that Cedric could easily discard his own loss to support Harry. It was a bit intimidating, especially since Harry remembered how he’d felt at the beginning of the year after _his_ first loss. The fact that Cedric seemed to be made of sterner stuff more than just physically wasn’t lost on Harry. Hermione had been right, as per usual, not many Hufflepuffs lived up to their House’s best qualities as Cedric.

All the same, as easily as Cedric spoke about losing, Harry thought he detected a little edge to his tone. Not that Harry blamed him, obviously. In Cedric’s place Harry would have been furious—hell, Harry already was furious for Cedric!

“Bloody snakes played a terrible game,” said Harry vehemently. “You guys would have won if they’d actually tried to play fair. Flint should be banned.”

“But they didn’t, and we knew they wouldn’t,” said Cedric. “Besides, if we start an intermural Quidditch association we’re going to be inviting some Slytherins.”

“Slytherin’s full of snakes, why would we invite any of them?” asked Harry incredulously. “There’s no way they’d invite any Gryffindors, given the chance.”

Cedric hummed tactfully. “It does you no good to sink to someone else’s level.”

“Why, because then I’m no better than them?” Harry snapped.

He hated that line of reasoning. Teachers had always trotted it out when he complained about Dudley before he stopped complaining because it only got him worse beatings from Dudley and his cronies. Being the bigger man had never saved Harry from Dudley’s abuse, or Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s.

“No, not at all,” said Cedric. “It’s because you are better than they are—besides, did you see the look on Flint’s face when I wished him luck?”

“Is _that_ what you said to him?” Harry didn’t bother to fight down his grin. “Ron and I thought you insulted his mother!”

“Well, I may have wished him good luck”—Cedric coughed and scratched his temple bashfully—“and very politely called him Dorcas.”

Laughter bubbled up from Harry’s chest and spilled out. For some reason, he just couldn’t stop giggling, and the mirth rapidly overtook Cedric, turning his grin into full-fledged chuckles.

“You’re so polite, Cedric,” Harry teased him.

“No sense in giving anyone call to actually take offense. It’s not my fault if Flint has such a short temper,” said Cedric innocently.

“Of course not,” Harry played along, sharing in the laugh. “It was just an innocent mistake.”

“Exactly! He totally overreacted,” said Cedric with a wink.

It was the oddest thing—Harry couldn’t stop smiling.

“So when you guys beat Slytherin make sure it’s fair and square, alright?” Cedric went on. “I think that’d really rub it in.”

“We’ll trounce them fair and square, Cedric, I swear!” Harry was a bit louder than he meant to be, but he wouldn’t take it back.

“Good.” Cedric nudged him. “And next year we can have a rematch.”

“You’re on, Diggory,” Harry didn’t so much grin as bare his teeth in challenge. Cedric met him gaze for gaze, tooth for tooth.

“May the best man win, Potter.”

Their smiles faded to a more relaxed, milder joy. They walked back to the main corridor, which was now mostly devoid of students except for those who were like them who running rather late.

“You’re not gonna put your cloak on?” asked Cedric as a Slytherin sixth year flew by them, trailing parchments out of her bag that she hurriedly kept spelling back in as she tried to catch—Harry wasn’t sure, it looked like a dustball with a very flat black tophat.

Needless to say, anyone who they’d bumped into would be too distracted by getting to class on time to try and harass Harry.

“I don’t really want to wear it into class,” Harry confessed. Most people still didn’t know about his cloak, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Then I’ll walk you,” said Cedric.

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry told him.

“I know,” said Cedric. He offered Harry a fond look. “But I want to.”

Heat surged into Harry’s cheeks and he did his best not to wriggle with the brilliant crackling of energy in his gut, like some sort of monster was busy devouring all that butterflies in his stomach, until it grew fat and sated, like a dragon lounging on its hoard.

“Won’t you be late?” Harry asked weakly, not wanting Cedric to leave but also not wanting to put him off by letting on how much Harry enjoyed his presence.

“I’ve got perfect attendance, I reckon I can be a few minutes late,” said Cedric and then added a bit cheekily. “Especially for such a worthy cause.”

“Sod you,” Harry grumbled good-naturedly, bumping Cedric with his shoulder, and relishing the moment of contact, the heat through the cloth and solid frame of Cedric’s body.

They made it through the hallways without further incident, until Cedric had deposited Harry right at the door to Charms. Harry turned to face Cedric, who wasn’t leaving just yet, feeling like he ought to say something.

“So, er, was there anything else?” Harry nearly bit his tongue off with how bad that sounded. “Not that there had to be! I mean… um.”

“Well, I just wanted to be sure we were still on for the next Hogsmeade weekend, since, you don’t have the map… But you have an invisibility cloak.” Cedric phrased it almost like it was a question, but Harry couldn’t see what he was asking.

“Yes?” Harry asked. Did Cedric think he was a spoiled brat, with his Firebolt and his Map and his Invisibility Cloak? “What does that have to do with anything?”

Cedric’s head whipped back to him. After a beat where Harry’s heart stalled at the almost fierce look Cedric cast him, then Cedric’s face broke into his usual handsome smile, looking pleased for no reason that Harry could see.

“Nothing, I reckon.” Cedric was almost bouncing on his feet, standing straight enough that Harry strained up instinctively too, although in his case it didn’t do much to offset Cedric’s relative height. “I’ll definitely see you then, yeah? Meet at breakfast?”

“Late breakfast,” said Harry sternly and Cedric laughed.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else! Ta, Harry,” Cedric called over his shoulder as he walked away.

It was only later that Harry realized what Cedric had meant by asking about Harry’s cloak. Because Harry _could_ sneak into Hogsmeade even without the Map, if he just used the cloak. And Cedric had quite obviously pieced that together, and for a moment Harry felt a surge of panic.

Did Cedric know? Did he know that Harry felt things for him that boys shouldn't feel for other boys? The thoughts caught in his throat like burrs tangled in the arms of a dead cactus, withered and crackling with discomfort.

But… even though Harry had chosen to spend time with Cedric, and while that might be embarrassing to realize he’d been so transparent, Cedric had been pleased.

 _Cedric_ had been _pleased_ with the prospect of spending more time with Harry, time that he might not even be able to afford before his exams. Time that Cedric could have spent in Hogsmeade with his friends, or doing whatever he wanted, instead of spending it with a third year Gryffindor who had a crazed felon trying to murder him.

Yet still, Cedric chose Harry.

Despite Harry’s rapidly escalating anxiety around the House Quidditch Cup, nothing made his heart beat faster than the idea that Cedric might be just as happy as Harry about being chosen over Hogsmeade.

* * *

 

In no time at all it seemed the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year was upon them. Although Harry had exams coming up soon, without the pressure of Quidditch or an attack by Sirius Black he felt less stress than he had all year.

Stirring lazily in the warm blankets of his four poster bed, Harry could make out the sounds of the others getting ready for Hogsmeade. After a few moments of stretching and yawning, Harry poked his head out to fumble for his glasses and slid them on.

Ron was lacing up his boots, sitting on the edge of his bed, head bowed.

“You two are off, then?” Harry asked. Ron jumped and swiveled about to stare at Harry for a moment.

“Not—I mean, not just us—er…” Ron’s cheeks had gone rather pink, and Harry would be lying if he didn’t enjoy the shoe being on the other foot for once.

Of course, it was normal for a boy to get a bit flustered about spending time along with a girl, even if it wasn’t like that between Ron and Hermione. It wasn’t normal for boys to be flustered over other boys.

The thought sank Harry’s cheer somewhat

“You’re going to meet Cedric, then?” asked Ron, much more hesitation than Harry was used to from him. His copper hair obscured his face as he finished lacing up his boots.

“Not until lunch,” Harry told the crown of Ron’s head. Ron popped up to his feet as Harry glanced blearily around the room.

Apparently, the rest of their dorm mates were all up and about. Seamus and Dean’s beds were both empty (Dean’s sloppily re-made, Seamus’s just sloppy) and the absence of his god-awful snoring put the probability of Neville being behind the curtains on his four-poster bed at near zero.

“Alright, then, see ya later, mate,” said Ron.

“Give my best to Hermione,” Harry yawned. Before the door had closed behind Ron’s back Harry had already returned to the warmth of his sheets. Sleeping in had been a rare luxury growing up, and Harry loved the freedom of it. An excellent morning of lazing about his comfortable bed followed by a hearty breakfast and a day spent with Cedric seemed the recipe for a perfect day to Harry’s way of thinking.

Despite this, as much as Harry wanted to doze back off he couldn’t seem to manage it now. His heart kept beating too fast for sleep, and all he could think about was meeting Cedric, and how it was strange and wrong for him to feel so excited about it. How if they went flying then Harry would get to see Cedric laughing, his gray eyes crinkled under his sweat-flopped hair and how disgusting was it that thinking about Cedric hot and sweat made Harry feel hot and sweaty in turn?

Eventually, the turmoil was too much for him to laze about any longer. He made his way to the shower and took advantage of the privacy to relieve his stress in a time-honored fashion.

The shame that coursed through his veins as he watched his release drain away in the shower he resolved to put away until later.

 

* * *

 

Saturday lunches were always assembled from leftovers the week’s leftovers, and Hogsmeade weekends were no exception. Harry helped himself to a heaping plate full of salmon kedgeree, which he topped with a pair of hardboiled eggs, and slathered some toast with so much butter and jam he had to start eating it first, so the bread didn’t get soggy.

Harry didn’t see Cedric, which was just as well since he had jam all over his mouth. Instead, he dug into breakfast with relish, albeit a bit more carefully than he had when he first sat down. Making a mess of himself before meeting Cedric would be horribly embarrassing. At least no one else at the Gryffindor table was paying him any mind.

Despite it being the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, more people were in the Dining Hall than for Valentine’s day weekend, albeit mostly fifth years and seventh years. Everyone was panicking over their exams, but those about to take their OWLs and NEWTs were feeling the most pressure by far.

Cedric was taking his OWLs; Harry was keenly aware.

Two helpings of kedgeree and several goblets of pumpkin juice later, Cedric made his way into the hall. He looked as put together as always, and Harry perked up immediately and waved. He met Cedric’s grin with a smile he couldn’t tamp down on if he tried, but he frowned the moment Cedric sat down beside him.

“You look tired,” Harry blurted out. Cedric’s eyes had bags under them and looked vaguely bruised as if he’d not slept at all the previous night.

“Good morning to you too,” said Cedric amusedly.

“Sorry!” Harry couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

“No worries, Harry,” said Cedric, bumping Harry’s shoulder companionably. “And I’m a little tired, but it’s nothing awful.

Cedric waved him off in favor of dishing himself up some breakfast, but Harry wouldn’t be easily deterred.

“If you ought to be studying or resting you can go do that,” said Harry. As much as he wanted to spend time with Cedric, he wasn’t going to be the reason Cedric lost study time.

“I’ll eat some breakfast, and I’ll be fine,” said Cedric. “Or brunch, I suppose. Really, Harry, it’s not all that bad, just had a lot of homework to do last night.”

Harry blinked, unsure why Cedric would have much homework on a Friday night when he had all weekend to study—except for today, which he’d agreed to spend with Harry.

Cedric made quick work of breakfast, giving Harry plenty of time to feel pleased and awkward as he did his best to make conversation. Small talk had never been anything Harry was good at, probably because he’d never had to practice it. The Dursleys had seen to that, naturally.

After draining his goblet, Cedric let out a sigh and pushed his plate back. He did look a bit better, or at least more energized.

“What are you thinking?” asked Harry after he caught himself looking at Cedric’s face in profile a little too long.

Cedric hummed thoughtfully as he finished off his cup of tea.

“I think I’d like some air. Want to talk a walk around the lake?” Cedric’s smile had Harry beaming back at him without thinking about it. But even as contagious as Cedric’s handsome smile was, he still looked worn.

Maybe they wouldn’t go flying today. Harry would be lying if he weren’t a bit disappointed at the prospect, but he’d rather Cedric be well-rested than fly himself ragged racing about with Harry.

They left the Great Hall walking shoulder-to-shoulder. Cedric waved at a few of the older students they passed, and Harry was reminded that Cedric was genuinely popular. Not popular because he stood atop the social pyramid, but truly well-liked by the rest of Hogwarts.

By the time they’d made it outside Harry was quite ready to be alone with Cedric.

Spring had finally meandered into a suitably sunny bit of weather. Outside the idyllic blue sky unfurled over the world interrupted by clouds so light and fluffy they looked more comfortable than any pillow imaginable. Light danced and glittered on the surface of the Great Lake, and the water stirred ever so slightly by the pulsing breeze while the giant squid gamboled just underneath, basking in the sun-warmed water near the surface.

Despite the pleasant weather, there were relatively few students spending their weekend outside. Mostly they were 2nd and 1st years, and Harry did his best to ignore the scattered odd looks he and Cedric received, much less reserved than the upperclassmen Cedric had greeted.

For some reason, Harry’s being friends with Cedric had become noteworthy, probably because Sirius Black hadn’t tried to break in recently and other than exams there wasn’t much to gossip about.

Didn’t mean Harry had to like it, though. In fact, he hated it. All the sideways glances and bemused whispers just reminded him of how abnormal he was to enjoy Cedric’s friendship, how queer he was for wanting Cedric’s attention in the first place.

Therein lay the root of the problem, of course, not that Harry wanted to consider it. Even just the idea of the notion made him queasy, nearly as bad as the notion of Black killing his dorm mates. Only this was something he couldn’t bear to look at, not when any further thought pointed to only one impossible awful conclusion.

“Hey, you alright?” Cedric nudged Harry out of his thoughts. Harry did his best not to jump and schooled his features into something not quite so pensive.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Exams and all.” Harry looked at Cedric pointedly.

Cedric looked so amused that Harry very nearly took offense. “Well then, perhaps we shouldn’t practice.”

“Practice what?” asked Harry, a bit nonplussed by the subject shift.

“Casting a Patronus, of course! You agreed to help me, remember?” Cedric’s tone had an edge to it like he was unsure of something.

“Oh, that—er—I mean, yes, of course! I just don’t see how I’d be much help, is all,” said Harry with a shrug. He kicked the grass as they walked, not meeting Cedric’s eyes. “I mean, mine’s not corporeal either or anything.”

“No, but it’s still in better shape than mine.” Cedric slowed down, though he didn’t break stride. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.”

“NO! I mean, yes—wait, hold on,” Harry had not expected for Cedric to come to that conclusion at all. He turned to face Cedric, full of determination. “Let’s do it!”

Harry colored up the moment the words left his mouth. Luckily for him, Cedric had triumphantly roped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him in.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Cedric cheered, face forward so Harry could almost hide his blush.

Harry wasn’t often thankful for being a scrawny thirteen-year-old, but if his height kept Cedric from seeing how much of a fool Harry could make of himself this one time, well, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. In this one, particular instance, that is.

They made their way down the castle mound to the lakeside, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. On their way, they dipped into a detour to the greenhouses and the rose gardens at Cedric’s suggestion, before taking the slope down the water.

By the time they made it to the lakeshore, Cedric was yawning, so Harry suggested they go sit down out of the sun. They had to walk a ways before they reached the first of the willows that ruled over the shoreline.

Hogwarts loomed large over the landscape, but they’d moved far enough down the lake that it made the scenery, rather than dominated it. Stained glass windows caught the sunlight and seemed to devour it, growing brighter and more colorful. Even the gargoyles were stretching, stone wings spread to bask in the warmth.

After a couple of minutes of joking around over the wide variety of seating options they had, Cedric and Harry finally settled under a tree with enough leaves to cut the sunlight without leaving the shade cold. They sat shoulder to shoulder, close enough for Harry to feel a bit of a thrill but distance enough to be normal.

“So, you want to see?” Cedric asked Harry, twiddling his wand in his fingers. Suddenly the world felt quiet, only the breeze that barely stirred the branches made a sound. No birdsong, not even waves lapping at the shore disturbed the hush, just the rustle of leaves and grass, and Cedric.

“Yeah,” said Harry, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Show me.”

A smile played about the twitch of Cedric’s lips, but something about the quiet stalled the mirth, letting something else, a different sort of tension—this one almost warm and gentle—pool in its place. Harry felt like his skin had come alive, bursts of dizzying heat and cold radiating out from his chest and his heart and his stomach and his lungs and he felt like he was going a bit crazy in the best possible way.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” said Cedric firmly. Luminous silver mist rushed out of his wand, and from the great sparkling haze a shape tried to take form.

Large. Four legs. Hooves possibly. It galloped through the air, barely holding form before it exploded into nothing.

“Wow,” Harry breathed. This was easily as good as anything Harry had cast, and Cedric had no lessons with Lupin to help him along. “Cedric that’s amazing!”

“It’s coming along,” said Cedric diplomatically. “I need some more practice, though. How’s yours?”

“Er… I don’t know. I didn’t get much of a look at it when I cast it last,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, feeling almost a bit apprehensive. Harry bit his lip and tried to search for a good memory, staring at his wand in his hand. He wanted to impress Cedric, he wanted—

Cedric’s hand was on Harry’s wrist. The heat of his hand seared Harry down to the bone, to the very soles of his feet, lighting his skin up as Cedric’s Quidditch callused hands gently rasped over the smooth skin of Harry’s wrist. The sensation radiated up his forearm, racing along his veins and Harry couldn’t hold back a little shiver.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Cedric was looking at him with concern that made Harry feel hot and also like he wanted to curl up and die.

“I know! I’m just…” Harry jabbed his wand forward. “ _Expecto Patronum!”_

Silver mist sprayed out of his wand, not the deluge that Cedric had summoned, but a steady spray like a fountain. In the midst of the mist a shape stirred, drawing form as it strained forward like it was desperate to escape from nothingness.

“Good one, Harry!”

“It’s coming along,” said Harry dryly and Cedric snorted.

“Well, clearly we ought to practice more,” said Cedric.

They spent the next few minutes spraying silver mist and trying to summon a corporeal Patronus. After the first few tries, Harry began to relax, and the more he relaxed, the better result he got until he was putting out more mist than Cedric.

It hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice that both of their Patronuses were four-legged animals with hooves. Cedric hadn’t said anything, so Harry didn’t bring it up, but he hoped they had the same Patronus, somehow. That would be really…

The thought of it made Harry squirm a bit. Being thirteen had other downsides than just being scrawny and short.

“I think I’m spent!” Cedric declared, falling backward with a grunt. “That was a good last round.”

Given that of the two of them Harry had been the one to progress more, he wasn’t sure if Cedric was just being nice.

“I still don’t know why you thought I’d be much help,” Harry grumbled.

“Oh, don’t worry, you definitely helped,” said Cedric, before he looked away, as though something had caught his attention across the lake. Before Harry could ask what he meant, Cedric was jumping to his to his feet.

“What’s say you up for a little flying?” he asked brightly.

Harry’s first impulse was to agree, immediately, but the part of him that hadn’t forgotten how tired Cedric had looked earlier forced him to ask, “You sure you don’t need to study?

"I appreciate the concern, but it’s really all right Harry. Besides, unlike the rest of my dorm mates, I have pretty good study habits,” said Cedric with a terribly roguish grin for someone bragging about how studious he was. “All I’d be doing is reviewing material that I already know, and stressing out more won’t help it stick. Probably the opposite, to be honest.”

He held out his hand to Harry, whose resistance was rapidly collapsing.

“Well, if you’re sure,” said Harry, clasping his hand with Cedric’s outstretched one.

Cedric hauled him to his feet with a little grin. “I am.”

McGonagall was in her office grading papers, and if it were any other professor, Harry might think she was glad of the interruption. At the very least she seemed to approve of Harry’s friendship with Cedric, judging by how she very nearly smiled while shooing them away after giving Harry his broom back.

Of course, Harry had a feeling all of the professors like Cedric. Possibly even Snape, since Cedric wasn’t a Gryffindor.

Both of them ran down to the castle door, and hopped on their brooms, racing out to the pitch. They flew together, whipping through the air with abandon.

Harry let Cedric borrow his Firebolt several times, laughing as Cedric whooped and hollered when he flew just a bit too fast. When they were flying the air broke over them with a pleasant chill that evaporated once they slowed down to float and bask in the sun. Flying just for the sake of flying wasn’t something Harry did often enough, he decided. Quidditch was great, but, as he glanced over at a flushed, exhilarated Cedric, part of Harry decided this might be just as good.

Finally, they ran out of energy as the mid-afternoon sun began to creep down the sky. The days were long now, and still growing longer, and their shadows stretched out along the grass even while they were flat on their backs.

With no people in the stands, and no team practicing around him, the pitch felt bigger. Laying on his back, one hand shading his eyes from the sunlight catching his glasses, Harry felt the earth under him, stable and supportive of his pleasantly burning muscles.

“That Firebolt of yours…” Cedric gasped. “Bloody fantastic.”

“Thanks.”

“Your relatives must be very fond of you to get you a broom like this,” said Cedric and Harry couldn’t help the snort that barreled out of his disdain. “Er—no?”

“No. My relatives are Muggles, remember?” Harry didn’t want to explain the Dursleys to Cedric.

“Right, but… then who sent it to you?” Cedric had levered himself up onto his elbows.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Cedric’s jaw dropped.

“That’s why Professor McGonagall wouldn’t let me have it right away,” Harry explained, picking at the grass. “They were worried Sirius Black had sent it, and that it might be cursed.”

Harry still felt a bit guilty for being so short with Hermione. He and Ron had been awful to her this year, and he resolved to make it up to her in the future.

“Awful lot of Galleons to drop on a plan like that,” said Cedric wryly.

“I dunno, I like to think I’m worth it,” said Harry as though they were discussing the weather and not a murderer out to get him.

Cedric burst out laughing.

They talked a while longer, before lapsing into a companionable silence.

Harry thought about Cedric’s Patronus, and his own.

“Do you think…” Harry began.

“Hm?” Cedric’s eyes were closed.

“Nevermind,” said Harry. Asking Cedric if he thought they might have the same Patronus felt far too revealing.

They fell back into silence.

Harry had watched the clouds for a bit before he turned to see what Cedric was doing.

Cedric had fallen back with his head resting on his arms like a pillow. The stitching of Cedric’s shirt pulled the fabric taught across his chest, and because Harry had either the best or worst luck in the world, slid up just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin at his waist.

Harry’s gaze being pulled down the lines of Cedric’s body to settle on that sliver was frankly inevitable. The squeak that he let out definitely wasn’t though—just utterly humiliating as he tried to play it off.

“Harry?” Cedric’s brow was furrowed as he looked up at the boy sitting next to him.

“There was just a… bee,” Harry finished lamely. “It’s gone now.”

Cedric hummed. “Let me know if it comes back.”

Harry made a vague noise of assent and laid back down. The sun baked him into the grass, and Harry felt like he was drifting, floating with the earth as it spun through space.

It didn’t take long for him to start feeling restless. Cedric was so close, and it was nice just to be with him, but Harry was bored.

A snuffling from beside him had Harry levered himself up on his elbows.

Cedric had fallen asleep.

Tightness gripped Harry’s chest as he watched the sunlight play on Cedric’s handsome face. Watching Cedric’s skin take on a warm glow put Harry in the mind of a fire burning in a cozy hearth and gentle shadows dancing on the wall of a place that resembled the Burrow more than anywhere else.

A furious longing swept Harry up and pulled his heart into his throat. With near trembling fingers, Harry reached out and gently brushed Cedric’s hair out of his eyes, feeling oddly fierce about protecting someone who was both older and stronger than him.

He knew that what he felt for Cedric wasn’t right, but there was such gravity to the yearning inside him he felt powerless against the sheer force of it, the unbridled weight of something hot and bubbling within his stomach, his chest—his heart. He ached for things he didn’t dare name, but he couldn’t avoid the truth any longer.

“Great.” Harry groaned and buried his face in his arms. “Just great.”

He was queer for Cedric.

No one could _ever_ find out, especially not Cedric.

Harry took off his glasses to give them an absentminded polish and let out a shaky breath. The smart thing to do would be to stop seeing Cedric, to cut their friendship short before Harry revealed himself for what he was, for what he wanted.

Harry sat in the sun and let Cedric sleep.

Time had been suspended between the two of them on the Quidditch pitch, and Harry felt like it took forever and no time at all before Cedric began to stir.

Cedric yawned, his eyes flickering open. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.” Harry played with a stem of grass instead of looking at Cedric. Something about his sleepy stare made Harry’s stomach do its best to dance the tango with Harry’s heart only they were stomping all over his lungs so that it felt like his breath kept catching in his throat.

“I’m sorry, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked like you needed it.”

“But… I mean, it must have been boring just—“ Cedric looked so contrite that Harry had to stop him.

“Cedric. I really didn’t mind. Besides, you’re awake now, right? And it’s still a nice day.” Harry couldn’t quite look at Cedric, some Gryffindor he was. “If you want, you can go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

Cedric gazed long and steadily at Harry for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“No, I think I'm good. Any longer and my head will be all muddled.”

They went to put their brooms away—well, Cedric put his broom away. Harry leaned against the outside wall of the broom shed.

A movement at the corner of Harry’s eyes tugged his attention just in time to see a bushy-bottle orange tail vanish into the

“Crookshanks?” Harry called, but the cat just ran from him. He looked up and froze.

Far away, standing on the hill by the Whomping Willow, was a large black dog.

“—Harry?” Cedric was standing behind him so suddenly that Harry started. “Whoa! What’s the matter?”

“There was…” Harry turned back, but the Grim was gone. “Nothing. Just… thought I saw something.”

“That bee from earlier come back for revenge?” Cedric teased him, and Harry sputtered. “Come on, let’s get your broom back to Professor McGonagall.”

Harry did his best to put all thoughts of evil omens, escaped murderers, and unsettlingly intelligent animals out of his mind. Bad enough he had his queer feelings for Cedric to deal with, he didn't need to be jumping at superstitious shadows on top of that. 


End file.
